Oblivion
by whisperasweknowit
Summary: How do you expect to survive when you know you are just an experiment?
1. Unawareness is Bliss

Ciara stood by the other sixteen-year-olds with her weight favoring her right leg. She appeared to be entirely unaware of what was going on. The square of District 1 was packed with people, but she stood still, casually observing her nails. She lifted her hand from her left hip and shifted her weight back to equilibrium. She rubbed at a hard edge with the thumb of her opposite hand until it smoothed out and blended into the rest of her nail. Satisfied with her quick self-manicure, she pulled a little mirror out of her back pocket and glanced at herself.

Reflected back at her was a bored expression. She blinked her rich brown eyes once, smiling a little bit. Her long dark brown hair was put up in a smart straight ponytail that sat high on her head. She worked a few strands out to frame her face. She twisted the strands around her fingers a couple of times before flashing the mirror a charming smile and snapping it shut.

A murmur rippled through the crowd as a tall woman with striking red hair took the stage. Her silver dress flashed in the sunlight, her short heels clicking smartly as she headed for the orbs full of the names of all those eligible for the Hunger Games. Ciara lifted her head to admire the dress. It fell just past the middle of the woman's thighs. The neck was wide, with sleeves that came almost to the elbow. It was very form-fitting, and it made the woman's hair appear all the more red and her eyes all the more green.

The microphone squealed slightly as she lifted it from the stand. "Good morning, District 1!" the woman chirped. The enthusiasm sounded forced. Her eyes were detached and emotionless. "I am Alexandrite Enestem, as you all know. Welcome to the first reaping of the 238th Hunger Games! As always, ladies come first," she sang, reaching towards the sphere full of girl names.

Ciara watched all this with the same bored expression. She totally couldn't wait for this to be over so she could go home and fix the chip in her magenta nail polish. Nonetheless, her eyes followed the hand of Alexandrite as the woman reached in and pulled out a slip of paper.

"Your female tribute will be Ciara Westbrook," she announced.

"I volunteer!" a voice cried out from the crowd.

At this point, Ciara was already standing beside Alexandrite. The Escort dwarfed her, but the teenager didn't notice.

"Excuse me," she drawled, raising her eyebrows at the older girl waving her arms in the crowd. "I didn't ask for pity." She smirked as the crowd reacted, a mix of gasps and applause.

Alexandrite shrugged at the girl in the crowd. "Not this year, doll," she said, turning back to Ciara. "Welcome to the Hunger Games," she told the girl. "Now on to the boys!"

Ciara stopped paying attention. _Wouldn't it be funny_, she thought_, if they reaped one of my brothers? That'd be something I would watch. I'd hate to have to kill one of them, though_, she mused, not even considering the possibility of one of them killing her. The loud voice of Alexandrite drew her out of her thoughts.

"Your male tribute will be Conner Doherty."

Conner Doherty, fifteen. Ciara sort of knew him. He was pretty quiet, and totally not her type. She watched as the short boy with the sandy brown hair and freckles made his way to the stage. His milk chocolate colored eyes looked a little afraid, but no one wanted to volunteer after Ciara's outburst.

"No volunteers?" Alexandrite inquired. "Then that is all settled, is it not? Have a nice day, and may the odds be _ever_ in your favor," she concluded before turning to Ciara and Conner.

"You will be given a bit of time with your families," she said coldly. "Then I'll be escorting you to the Capitol." A duo of peacekeepers came up and grabbed one tribute each.

"Watch the arm," Ciara warned the peacekeeper. "I rather like this shirt; I don't want wrinkles or dirt on it." The bewildered peacekeeper loosened his grip on her arm and then released it. Ciara flashed him a smile and entered the building the other peacekeeper had led Conner into. She spotted her two older brothers and her father standing there. She meandered over to them, but she didn't look at them. To be honest, she was pretty glad she was leaving. She wasn't a big fan of her family.

Her dad watched her for a few minutes as she stood before him and her brothers. Finally, he sighed. "Why didn't you let that God damn volunteer take your place, Ciara?" he questioned.

Raising an eyebrow, Ciara put a hand on her hip. "Because I'm the best girl there is, and I can't let anyone steal my glory," she declared pompously.

"Idiot," one of her brother's murmured. The other nodded.

The family stood in silence for the rest of the time. Ciara watched the short boy, Conner, hold on to his equally short mother who was sobbing into his shoulder. _I'm glad my family isn't so sappy and lame_, she thought to herself. The peacekeepers reentered the room. Ciara's family left willingly, waving at the only female left in the family. They had to pry Mrs. Doherty from her son, though. She finally let go with an ear-splitting cry. Ciara could see that Conner had a few tears in his eyes as well.

"Come on, you two. It's time to get to the train and meet your mentors," Alexandrite commanded. Ciara rolled her eyes at the command, following slowly just to annoy the escort. Conner followed after the red-haired woman with quick, dutiful steps. Ciara couldn't read his mind, but she was pretty sure he was sad. He was probably thinking about how he'd never come back.

Because Ciara was going to be the victor of these games. Because she was the coolest.

Thane smiled weakly at his parents from his spot with all the other eighteen-year-olds. His stomach twisted in on itself. He flexed his bare feet against the hot stones of the square. He didn't feel the heat because of the calluses that had formed on his feet from eighteen years of walking barefoot.

If Thane had no family, he would not be worried. Maybe he'd even be excited. But he had his parents to worry about. He doubted that they would survive if he was forced to go to the Games. He was the one who cooked for them and dealt with getting money for them to buy food. They had lost the will to do much of anything after Thane's younger brother died in the games four years ago. If Thane had to go to, they wouldn't be able to care for themselves.

The boy was distracted from his thoughts by the woman in a tight silver dress that had appeared before the District 2 crowd. Her hair was an eye-catching bright pink color, and her eyes were the same dazzling silver color as her dress. Thane had always been curious about Capitol surgeries. He didn't understand why people desired to change their hair and eye color, and sometimes even their skin.

He was brought away from his thoughts once more as the woman began to speak. "The 238th Hunger Games is upon us, dear District 2," the woman declared, posing suggestively. "My name is Morganite Enestem, and I'll be the escort for your two tributes," she said with a little giggle. "So, ladies first!" she proclaimed with a grin.

The knot in Thane's stomach clenched tighter and tighter as he watched Morganite reach for the container with all the names of the girls. His moment of doom was drawing nearer. It would only be a minute or so until the male tribute was selected.

"Your female tribute will be Anja Nadezhda," Morganite said slowly, stumbling over the foreign name. Thane heard Anja's famous huff as she made her way up to the front of the crowd.

"It's pronounced like _Anya_," she sighed. Thane could almost hear Anja saying 'dumbass' afterwards. "And my last name is _Nah-de-zhe-dah_, not _Nay-dah-za-dah_," she added.

Morganite rolled her eyes. "Whatever," she said coldly. It was obvious that she felt threatened by Anja's porcelain-doll appearance. All the boys in the District had been in love with Anja at one time or another in their life. Her dark brown hair full of thick curls entranced them. Her playful dark blue eyes enchanted them. Her pale and clear skin attracted them. She was perfect in every sense, and she was a complete flirt. Thane had liked her when he was fifteen and she was fourteen. He had long since gotten over that, as her flirtatious personality bothered him nowadays.

Again, Thane had to be yanked from his thoughts. "Thane Absolum! Where is Thane Absolum?" Morganite was calling into the crowd.

_No_.

_No, it can't be me_, Thane thought wildly. His legs carried him towards Morganite and Anja against his will. _Mom and dad will die without me. I have to stay. They can't lose another son. It'll kill them. I can't do this. I can't go._

Thane was standing beside Anja now. He stared out at the crowd, trying to keep his eyes away from his parents. He could hear his mother sobbing, and he didn't know how he could face her anymore. He only had a few minutes left with her before he was led to his death, but he was dreading those few minutes out of shame.

_It's my fault I was reaped. I'm a terrible son_.

"See you next year, District 2! Make sure to tune in to watch the reapings of the other Districts and everything that comes afterwards, and may the odds be _ever_ in your favor."

Thane watched as his parents were taken by a peacekeeper and towed in his direction. Another peacekeeper appeared at his side and steered him into the District hall. Thane didn't object. He watched it happen every year. Those who resisted only got burned.

Once inside, Thane opened his arms to his sobbing mother. His father was not crying. He was not doing much of anything. After the death of Thane's little brother, his father became emotionally detached. He became a zombie, living his life without noticing it. But now he folded into Thane's arms, hugging his son firmly.

"Come back," the man whispered into his son's shoulder.

Tears in his eyes, Thane nodded. "I will. For you. For mom. For Lance."

The family grew silent at the name of their fallen son. Thane's mother sobbed harder into Thane's neck. His father pulled away, patting his son on the shoulder. Thane watched Anja hug her father. He felt like he was intruding, so he quickly averted his eyes.

"It's time to go," a peacekeeper said gruffly from behind. Thane gently detached his mother from him. He pushed her into her husband's arms. The peacekeeper pulled them away, followed by another peacekeeper with Anja's dad.

Morganite sparkled into the room. "Come, come you two!" she called. "We're off to the train."


	2. Die Trying

The sun beat down on the heads of the people of District 3. The square was uncomfortably hot. While the people of the District were used to the heat, they weren't used to such close quarters. Acton rolled his shoulders a couple times. If this had been a regular day, the boy would have been shirtless by now. The green button down shirt irked him, but he was supposed to look his best for the reaping day. He rolled the sleeves up to his elbows and unbuttoned the first three buttons.

He watched as a woman with zebra-striped pink hair appeared before the crowd. He turned to spot his younger brother in the 16-year-old section. They made eye contact, and Acton raised his eyebrows suggestively. The girl in front of the crowd was totally hot.

"District 3!" the woman in the tight silver dress cheered. "Welcome to the reaping of the 238th Hunger Games! My name is Rhodochrosite Enestem, but I'm totally positive you remember me," she grinned.

Acton hardly heard her words. He was hungrily taking in her appearance. Her hair fell to about her shoulders. The main color was a pale pink tone, and it was coated in darker pink zebra stripes. Her eyes were the cheeriest bright green the seventeen-year-old had ever seen. Her dress hugged her body perfectly. She was delicate and small. Acton looked at her face again and noticed her lips were moving.

"Your female tribute will be Yuki Sakurai!" she said loudly, applauding energetically.

Yuki, seventeen. Rhodochrosite forgotten, Acton watched the girl with the perfectly straight black hair and the darkest gray-blue eyes as she took the stage. She was the same height as the escort. She was dressed in tight denim jeans and a lacy white tank top. She smirked at Rhodochrosite, gesturing to the names of the boys. Rhodochrosite smiled at the tribute and turned to select the male who would enter the arena.

"Your male tribute will be Acton Cuthbert!"

Acton didn't realize his name had been called until he was shoved forward by another boy. He scowled at him, straightening his shirt before heading up to the crowd. The only thoughts running through his mind were for Rhodochrosite and Yuki. He didn't realize he'd just been reaped. The two hot girls waiting for him in front of the crowd were much more important than some games.

"Better luck next year to the rest of you," Rhodochrosite winked.

_God, she's hot when she winks_, Acton thought absently.

"…And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor," the escort concluded merrily. The crowd in the square melded into one large group rather than the sections they had set up for the reaping. Acton ignored them, obviously checking out Yuki. The girl turned to him, her lips pouting.

"Lay off, Acton," she said coldly. The boy quickly fixed his rich brown eyes into a puppy face. He slouched slightly so his muscles appeared less defined. He moved his eyes to her face and looked into her dark blue-gray eyes.

"Not happening," Yuki warned, turning away. Acton sighed, deciding it was time to switch back over to Rhodochrosite. The escort grinned at him. Acton smiled back, flexing his arms to show off for the new girl. Yuki coughed loudly from behind him. Rhodochrosite giggled.

"Hey guys!" she trilled.

Acton chuckled as sexily as he could. "Hey, Rhodochrosite," he said from the back of his throat.

"Please," Rhodochrosite smiled. "Call me Rhodo. Or Chrosite. Or Chro. Or anything, really! But Rhodochrosite is _way_ to long. I can call you guys Acton and Yuki, right?"

Acton nodded to the escort. Yuki moved to stand beside Acton, rolling her eyes. "Whatever," she said satirically. Rhodochrosite bit her lip. Her bright green eyes darkened just a little bit, and her smile faded.

"No need to be so rude," she complained. "I like Acton better. He's nice."

Acton stood up straighter, a grin growing on his face. "Yeah, Yuki, why are you such a bitch?" he asked, putting an arm around Rhodochrosite's shoulders. "No need to be so rude to Rhodo when you've only known her for a couple minutes. She's sweet," he added, smiling as Rhodochrosite leaned her head into his neck.

"Don't make me vomit," Yuki said, her eyes narrowed with anger. "Don't we have something to do?" she reminded Rhodochrosite frostily.

Rhodochrosite reluctantly detached herself from Acton. "Right, right," she said, smiling again. "Come, come, follow me. Your families should be just inside. Go on," she hummed, nudging Acton and Yuki inside. Acton obliged, entering a room where he spotted his parents and younger brother off in the corner.

His mother ran into his arms. Acton hugged her, embarrassed. His father winced apologetically. "I'm sorry, son," he said softly. "That you got reaped, I mean," he clarified. He patted his son firmly on the back and hugged him from the side before stepping away. He'd never been much of an empathetic person.

His brother bit his lip, trying to break the tension. "At least you get to spend time with those hotties Yuki and Rhodochrosite," he offered with a nervous smirk.

"Hell yeah, little bro," Acton said with a boyish grin. "And I'm sure some of the other tributes will be hot, too. They'll want me to protect them from the big bad arena…oh, _hell_ yes," he mused.

"That almost makes up for your almost certain death."

Acton's mother sobbed harder at that. Acton hardened his muscles. "I'm going to win," he assured his family members. "I'm just not going to kill the hot girls. I'll get someone else to do that. But I'm going to win."

* * *

><p>"Good morning, District 4!"<p>

Skye looked up at the call. She had been busy trying to look as small as possible, as though it could get her out of being reaped. She stood up to her full height of five foot four, though she looked much shorter next to the tall girl standing next to her. She was one of the shortest fifteen-year-olds of her District.

The redhead straightened the hem of her little black dress. She lifted her nose and scented the sea air. She breathed in as much as possible. She wanted to preserve the memories of home. Just in case.

"The 238th Hunger Games is now officially underway in this District," the girl in the tight silver dress announced. "My name is Citrine Enestem, and I'm the District 4 Escort, as you probably remember."

Skye couldn't see how anyone could forget Citrine. Her hair was the brightest yellow you could possible imagine. Looking directly at it produced the same effect that occurred when one stared at the sun. If that wasn't enough, the woman's eyes were an extraordinarily luminescent green color. Paired with her reflective silver dress, she certainly left a lasting impression.

"Ladies first, of course," Citrine said with a little smile. She reached into the pile of girl's names and picked out one slip. Skye looked up at the sky.

_Please. Please, please, _please_, let it not be me. Please. _A cluster of tears of desperation appeared in Skye's eyes. She blinked hard, digging her nails into her palms. _Please._

"Skye Douglass!" Citrine called out. "Your female tribute will be Skye Douglass."

_No. Maybe it's a mistake. It can't be me. I don't want it to be me._

"Go, Skye," the tall girl next to her said gently. Skye looked up at her, letting the tears fall. She tore through the crowd, suddenly feeling the urge to run. She stood beside Citrine, her eyes full of hatred.

"Before you continue, I want you to know that I hate you," Skye said in an undertone. She felt as surprised as Citrine looked. Not only was she typically friendly, but she was also usually shy. But the adrenaline of denial was coursing through her.

Citrine shook her head, her deadly yellow hair bouncing. "Alright then," she said awkwardly. "Your male tribute will be…" She trailed off, reaching into the vat of names. Skye drew in deep breath after deep breath, trying to calm herself down. She tried to compose an apology to Citrine, but it only made the anger swell up inside of her.

"Ash Kamau!"

Skye's anger overflowed once more. She watched the thirteen-year-old boy approach Citrine and herself. His tucked-in shirt was hanging over the waist of his pants and his short dark brown hair refused to stay in order. He was too innocent. This choice was worse than Skye.

"No volunteers?" Citrine chirped. "Then the reaping is over. Don't forget to watch the mandatory screening by the Capitol, and may the odds be _ever_ in your favor."

_The odds? In my favor? What do those words mean to the Capitol? To the Districts it means that no one goes to the Games and everyone has enough food to eat. But to the Capitol? They want us to get reaped. Sick morons._

"Come along, you two," Citrine chirped, having already forgotten Skye's earlier words. Skye glanced sadly at Ash. 'Sorry' she mouthed to him as a peacekeeper took her arm and led her into the building. She wanted to resist, but her shyness had overtaken her again. She slouched, allowing the peacekeeper to lead her inside.

As soon as she was released, she ran to her parents. She threw her arms around the both of them and finally let her tears fall. They cried with her. The Douglass family was known for being extensively close and caring. They held each other tightly as though it would let Skye stay with them.

Over her mother's shoulder Skye could see Ash and his family. She only cried harder at the sight. He stood with his crying mother, his older sister—who was Skye's age—and his little sister, who wasn't yet eligible for the Games. Skye wished she could be a little girl again, not understanding what the Games meant and not having to worry about being reaped.

"It's time to go," a peacekeeper growled from behind her. Skye squeezed her parents tightly before releasing them and wiping her eyes. They squeezed back, but they didn't look at her. They were going to lose their only child to the sick mind of the Capitol. They had little faith that their daughter would survive. Skye knew this. She sniffed as the peacekeeper towed her towards Citrine.

"To the train, then," Citrine told Skye and Ash. Skye kept her eyes downcast, studying her red sneakers.

"Goodbye," she whispered.


	3. Always Watching

The TV screen flickered on.

The grainy picture displayed a square packed with hundred upon hundreds of people. Their clothes were not casual, but they weren't exceptionally formal, either. Ill-fitting dresses and tight button-down shirts were the norm. Some people were clothed in silky, tailored clothes. They were the rich. The lucky.

A woman in a fitted, shimmering silver dress appeared on the screen. Her pale green hair fell in bouncy curls to her shoulders. The flickering picture made it difficult to tell, but her eyes appeared to be a rich dark brown color. She took her place in front of the crowd. Beside her stood two orbs full of hundreds of slips of paper. The woman patiently waited for the crowd to fall still.

"Good morning, District 5," the woman greeted, her voice like honey. "As I am sure you are all aware, my name is Peridot Enestem, your District's escort." She sounded like a first grade teacher during nap time. Her voice oozed out of her mouth, calming the crowd into a false sense of security.

"Without further ado," she continued, "It is time to select your female tribute!" Peridot reached for the names closest to her. She stuck her arm in and fished around, smiling at the crowd. Finally, she closed her fingers around one slip. The crowd seemed to have stopped breathing.

"Your female tribute will be Natalia Domani," Peridot announced. The way she said it, it didn't sound bad. It sounded like she was picking which child got to come up and play charades before the rest of the crowd. The girl got to play the teacher's game while the crowd kept on guessing.

Perhaps it was very much the same, after all.

The TV screen switched cameras, focusing in on a tall girl who was approaching Peridot. Her hair was long and rather wavy. She had it pulled back into a high, elegant ponytail. It swooshed back and forth as she approached the front of the crowd. Her face displayed no emotion, her bright green eyes cloudy with unknown thoughts. When she was standing beside Peridot, the soothing escort smiled before reaching for the next name. She selected one slip and pulled it towards her. She read the name quickly before looking back at the crowd, smiling. Why was she smiling? It was sick. She was selecting a boy to die.

"Your male tribute will be Darryl Duboise," Peridot said, still wearing her serene smile.

The picture on the TV screen switched away from Peridot. A boy was now the center of attention. He was very tall and muscular, but his face looked young. As the camera zoomed out slightly it became apparent that he was merely fourteen years old. He seemed older, with tanned skin and dirty blonde hair that hid much of his face. He flipped his head to one side to clear his face, revealing dark brown eyes.

He stood on the other side of Peridot. The woman with the green hair looked remarkably short between Natalia and Darryl, two tall individuals. Peridot didn't seem to notice how vertically challenged she appeared. She smiled gently at the crowd once more.

"Be sure to watch the Games, darlings, and may the odds be _ever_ in your favor."

The screen went black.

It stayed that way for a few moments before it sputtered back to life. The screen now displayed a square very similar to the previous one. It was packed with people, and some spilled out into the side streets. The people of the District, however, appeared more gaunt. Sedate. There was no need for the woman in the tight silver dress to wait for silence. She flipped her purple hair once, causing the yellow bands on it to shiver.

"Hello, District 6," she greeted, throwing one arm in the air and circling it back to her side. "I am Ametrine Enestem, the escort for your District." She batted her brown eyes delicately, waiting for a reaction to her performance. When none came, she pouted her lips and reached for the names without further banter.

"Your female tribute for the 238th Hunger Games will be Constance Wyman," Ametrine told them, abandoning her sulking to flash a smile at the crowd.

The screen moved away from Ametrine to reveal a teenager who truly appeared to be wider than she was tall. She stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the generally skinny people around her. Her face was red with embarrassment as she attempted to maneuver her weight though the tight crowd. Her hair was very long, kept in a careworn ponytail that was sliding down her head. Her hair was the brown color of almonds. It appeared to be silky and soft.

Constance blinked her soft brown eyes at Ametrine in apology, smoothing her brown lacy top in an act of self consciousness. Ametrine raised her eyebrows at the girl and snorted rudely before turning to the names of the boys. She bent carefully, clearly showing off her streamlined physique to Constance. She straightened up daintily and looked at the slip of paper.

"Your male tribute will be Craig West," Ametrine purred. She batted her eyes again, showing off her perfect cat eye makeup.

Craig appeared on the screen. He was tall. It seemed that if you cut Constance in half and glued the two on top of each other, you created Craig. His eyes were a dark, mysterious blue color. His arms were skinny, lacking muscle. He approached Constance and Ametrine in complete silence, his face clear of emotion and thought.

Ametrine grinned at him, shifting her weight and putting a hand on her hip suggestively. Craig stared straight ahead. Finally, Ametrine gave up and sighed.

"Make sure you watch the Games, or whatever," she mumbled. "Odds in your favor, you know the drill. Au revior," she finished.

The screen faded to black again.

It came back slowly, revealing yet a third square similar to the first two. The people here looked more or less normal, neither strikingly skinny nor overweight. Their clothes seemed to fit a little awkwardly, but for the most part they looked average. Simple.

This made the woman in the striking silver dress appear oddly out of place. Her hair was a jet black color, swinging just above her shoulders in gentle motions as she walked. Her eyes were peculiarly dark, making her all the more mysterious. She faced the crowd.

"District 7," she greeted coolly. "The 238th Hunger Games are beginning to take shape, with half the reapings completed. My name is Melanite Enestem, and I am the escort for your District."

Melanite clearly saw no point in beating around the bush. She dutifully searched for a name in the pile of female slips and selected one, holding it up to her face and deciphering the words.

"Your female tribute will be Wren Thomas," she said calmly, her voice drifting over the crowd.

A young girl appeared on the screen. She wasn't particularly tall, but she wouldn't have been called short, either. Her skin was clear and rather pale, and appeared more so by her dark brown hair that fell a few inches past her shoulders. Her eyes were a serious gray color, and her face was completely guarded from the outside world. If her eyes were closed she would have looked unfeeling enough to be sleeping.

When she had reached the front of the crowd, Melanite nodded once before turning to the names of the boys. She reached in and selected the one, the doomed. She quickly read the name on the piece of paper and then lowered the paper from her mouth so they crowd could see her form the words.

"Your male tribute will be Apollo Rennie."

The camera swung to spot the boy. He was definitely young, his slight chubbiness making him appear even younger. His hair was short and bright blonde. He blinked his vivid green eyes a couple of times before shaking his head quickly and approaching Wren and Melanite. He was not as guarded as Wren; the mix of fear and excitement was very clear on the boy's face. Once he was facing the crowd with Wren, Melanite gave the smallest of smiles.

"Make sure to watch the mandatory screening of the Games, and may the odds be _ever_ in your favor," she said, her voice veering towards a singing or a mocking tone.

The screen flickered once and went black.

**AN: This chapter was a little tricky, as none of the main characters were in the next couple of Districts. Hopefully you, my darling readers, don't seriously hate what I did with it. XD**


	4. Don't Cry, Little Darling

**AN: Gah, sorry it has taken me so painfully long to update. I'll try to update more frequently now, but I can't make any promises until school it over. Enjoy~**

The hum of the District 8 crowd buzzed through the television. Chester hardly heard the noise. The large piece of paper in front of him was littered with design plans and it had his full attention.

"How does this sound?" the redheaded boy asked his father, who was sitting on the couch behind him. "There's a large box of water suspended over the garden. Attached to it is a rope that goes through the window and into the kitchen. You yank on the rope and the bucket spills over, watering the plants."

Chester's father considered this for a moment. "You still have to refill the bucket every day, which is arguably more work than watering the plants."

"Besides," his mother cut in. "Most plants don't like being watered on their leaves; they prefer to be watered very close to the ground. Now be quiet, the reaping is starting,"

Chewing on the end of his pencil, Chester reluctantly turned his attention to the television. In front of the crowd stood a short woman with wavy dark green hair and big light green eyes. "Hey there, District 8!" she cheered, bouncing up and down a couple of times. Her silver dress shimmered violently and her heels clicked wildly beneath her. "I'm Verdite Enestem, the escort for your District!"

A murmur of amusement trickled through the crowd before the spunky little woman continued. "Drum roll, please," she sang before reaching for the girls' names. No drum roll came, but Verdite didn't seem to be bothered by that.

"Your female tribute will be Faith Maru," she announced brightly.

"I prefer Newt," a girl from off of the screen called in a voice that wavered but once. The camera switched to show the face of a slim teenage girl with dark brown hair pulled back into a cascading ponytail. Her eyes were a brilliant green color that stood out strikingly from her pale skin.

"Newt Maru, everybody!" Verdite corrected as the reaped girl stood beside the escort. The girl blushed slightly, fiddling with the hem of her dark earthy brown dress. Verdite grinned at her.

Chester was back to work. "What about an above ground piping system that carries water from the pond to the garden? The pipes switch to a spongy material that snakes through the garden. When dry, it absorbs water and transfers it into the soil, but when wet it transfers water farther on. The pipe opens and closes with a remote control door."

"Where in Panem will you find a material that does that?" his father pointed out.

"Hush," his mother warned. "She's about to read out the name of the male tribute."

Chester fell silent, turning back to the television screen.

"Your male tribute will be Zephyr Raine," Verdite called out.

The camera moved away from her face, eventually closing in on a tall and muscular young man who had rather pale skin and short dark brown hair. His eyes were the darkest shade of green, giving him an image of terrifying attraction.

Once he reached the front of the crowd, Verdite flashed a huge smile at the District. "Don't forget to tune into the rest of the 238th Hunger Games, and may the odds be _ever_ in your favor."

Now that the screen was dark and the reapings could no longer interrupt him, Chester turned back to his parents. "Okay," he said, "what if the pipe is rather large—nearly wide enough for me to fit inside—and below the surface of the lake. When the remote control door opens, a burst of water rockets through the pipe and explodes out into the garden, powerful enough to water every plant."

"That," his father said, "just might work. Now go on and get to bed so that you are well-rested for tomorrow's reaping.

Chester nodded quickly, sticking his pencil behind his ear and rolling up his plans. He got to his feet and headed off to bed, trying to focus on his latest invention rather than the impending reaping.

* * *

><p>In a rich brown button-down shirt and dark jeans, Chester still shivered. He wasn't cold—the weather was rather agreeable—but he was nervous. Possibly scared. He combed his pale fingers through his short and curly red hair out of habit.<p>

He was partially distracted from his feelings as a tall, elegant woman appeared before the crowd. Her hair was an eerily dark shade of green, broken by dazzling silver highlights that matched her tight dress. She had unusual blue eyes that entranced those who stared into them for too long.

"District 9," she acknowledged curtly. "I am Seraphinite Enestem, the escort for your District."

Chester watched as she bent over and selected a slip of paper from the mess of girls' names. He almost wished that the woman was more like Verdite, who believed in making a scene of things and creating fanfare. Seraphinite got straight to the point, and that only ignited Chester's worry even though there was a zero chance of his name being called from the slip she now held, seeing as he was male. Still, he held his breath.

"Your female tribute will be Thea Rhodes."

Instead of releasing the breath dying in his lungs, Chester only breathed in harder. Thea couldn't go to the games! She was…well, she was Thea! Delicate little Thea Rhodes. She stayed in the background, hardly ever saying a word to anyone. She wrote. If you saw Thea Rhodes, the probability that she was writing was immense. She wouldn't last one second after the Games began. She couldn't go.

Yet no one volunteered.

Chester swallowed as he watched Thea make her way towards Seraphinite. Her long, wavy chestnut-colored hair hid most of her olive-toned skin as she seemed to try and disappear. She was dressed elegantly in a modest dark blue dress. She looked quite pretty, but that was probably the least of her thoughts at the moment. As soon as she took her place beside the escort, Seraphinite chose a male tribute to fight to the death. She unfurled the paper.

It was then the Chester noticed he had been digging his fingernails into his palms. He observed the angry red welts, hardly hearing the deadly call.

"Your male tribute for the 238th Hunger Games will be Chester Vine."

Chester fitted his nails back into the marks on his hands. His throat was dry and his hands were stone cold. He swallowed painfully before taking his first step towards Thea and Seraphinite. His next steps came easier, as he realized he was much better off than Thea. He stood beside her as Seraphinite closed the reaping. Thea was trembling very slightly.

He wanted to say something, but words failed him. What could he say? "It'll be okay." Absolutely not. It wasn't going to be okay. "You'll be fine." As if. "No need to be scared." Ha. Ahahaha. Aha. Ha. Chester sifted through his mind, looking for something, anything he could say to Thea to make her feel better.

Finally, all he came up with was: "Hi."

Thea turned slowly to face him as the crowd began to disperse. She studied him with her hazel eyes. Chester noted awkwardly that even though they were both fourteen, she was taller than him. "Hi," she said quietly as Seraphinite turned to them.

"Your families are waiting inside," the escort informed them, pushing them in the direction of the open doors behind them. They walked through the doors held open by peacekeepers in a silence more potent than the one that had hung in the air as the crowd waited for the tributes to be reaped.

Chester watched Thea run off to her parents and her two identical little sisters before he allowed his parents to bury him in hugs.

"Don't let them beat you," his father choked, trying to hold back his tears and appear like a man. Chester's mother wrapped her arms around her son and said nothing, conveying her emotions through her actions. "You're smart," his father continued, pride slipping into his voice. "Don't forget that. You can outsmart them. I know you can."

A nod was all Chester could manage without bursting into tears himself. A peacekeeper swooped in and led his parents out, followed by another peacekeeper with Thea's family. Chester gave Thea a weak smile as Seraphinite towed them towards the train.

"Good luck," he told her gently, hoping to soothe the tears out of her eyes.


	5. Confidence

Through the gap in her hair, October watched the reaping unfold. She swept her thick, dull brown hair off of her pallid skin just as a beautiful woman in a silver dress cleared her throat. Her hair was a bright white color that was pierced by almost unnoticeable veins of gray. Her eyes were an astonishing ice blue color against her pale skin and white hair.

"The District 10 reaping is now underway," the woman observed plainly, her voice heavy and mysterious. "I am Howlite Enestem, the escort for your District."

October snorted rudely. _Get on with it,_ she thought impatiently. She hated the reapings. It wasn't necessarily because she hated the prospect of sending someone to die; that all depended on who was sent. She liked watching the tributes fight to the death. Standing in a stuffy, crowded square, however, was not her idea of a fun afternoon. Especially since she was wearing a hideous pink dress. As she had no parents, the peacekeepers provided her with their idea of nice clothes for the reaping.

Howlite reached her long spindly fingers for the name of the girl who would enter the games. October watched her movements hungrily. She had a secret little wish to be reaped, but at the same time she didn't. October was confident that she would win the games if she went, but she didn't like being the center of attention. She didn't want her toil to be broadcast to the world. My goodness, when would she _pee?_ She was fine with slaughtering people in front of millions of eyes, but she wasn't down with the rest of her life on a screen.

In addition, she didn't like the stories she had heard of the Capitol. Howlite's painfully white hair only increased that. Who would dye their hair white? Then again, Howlite's hair was among the most sensible of all her siblings. October wanted the retch when she saw some of the other escorts. Citrine Enestem was difficult to look at with her astounding yellow hair. Morganite's pink hair literally made October want to strangle something. The worst one was definitely Rhodochrosite, whose hair was not only pink but also decorated with zebra stripes.

The voice of the white-haired escort tore October from further dwelling on the idiots who inhabited Panem's Capitol.

"Your female tribute will be October Tyne."

Despite all the thought she had given to being reaped, October didn't know what to feel. She was torn between excitement and fear, so she chose to feel nothing at all. She hiked up her skirt so it wouldn't obstruct her legs and she strode towards Howlite, her head held high. Dignity was her main goal. When she had completed her first bath in the limelight, the attention turned away from her to the next name Howlite would call.

No time was wasted in selecting a male tribute. Howlite read the slip of paper and then raised her eyes to the crowd. She parted her perfect red lips and the name soared out.

"Your male tribute will be Marshall Reed."

October almost laughed. Almost. _Marshall Reed_. It had to be a joke. There was actually no way that Marshall could go to the games. He was sickeningly noble and caring. He would kill himself before laying a finger on anyone else. He was the very epitome of a Gary-Stu. He was tall and muscular with blonde hair and bright green eyes, just like October's. He had both his parents and two siblings. He was yet another person who disgusted October. And she had to spend days with him before the Games actually began.

"That concludes our reaping," Howlite said. "Do not forget to watch the rest of the 238th Hunger Games on your televisions, as it is mandatory."

Two peacekeepers came up and grabbed the arms of both October and Marshall. October felt the strong urge to slap the peacekeeper, but she figured now wouldn't be the best time to piss off the Capitol. She was led into a room that was empty except for Marshall's family. She scowled as the sixteen-year-old hugged his parents. His younger brother wrapped his arms around his brother's leg while his older sister stood by her mother for moral support.

The seconds inched by as the Reed family said their goodbyes to their middle child. October attempted to ignore them, slightly bitter and hugely prideful. She didn't need a family. She never had a family and she never would have a family, and that was what it was. She turned up her nose and waited impatiently to be led off to the train.

* * *

><p><em>Just one last year.<em>

Levi almost could have cheered. Well, no. Maybe he would have smiled, which was kind of like cheering for him. He was in the clear. This was his last reaping ever, and then the stupid Capitol could never threaten him ever again. He would be free to live his life, slipping under the radar of the peacekeepers and being perfectly fine.

All he had to do was pass through this reaping unscathed.

He wanted to shout for them to get on with it, but he didn't. As much as he wanted to get out of the oppressive District square, he wasn't in the mood to provoke the peacekeepers. They could easily force him to go the Games, which wasn't on his agenda.

The District's escort, Tanzanite Enestem, appeared in her trademark stunning silver dress. Her rich purple hair stayed oddly in order as she moved. She faced the crowd, her gray eyes piercing into the souls of anyone who made eye-contact.

"Hello, District 11," Tanzanite greeted coolly in an accent that sounded rather foreign. "I am Tanzanite Enestem, the escort for your tributes."

_Yeah, yeah, yeah. We know. Get on with it, lady, _Levi thought, his expression bored. He watched with mock interest as she bent and picked a name to be the female tribute. He then rolled his eyes. If he had a flat, hard surface, he would be drumming his fingers on it. _It's the same every year. Why do they make such a big deal out of it?_

"Your female tribute for the 238th Hunger Games will be Tessa Shanley."

Levi might have laughed if he was the type. He fixed his gray eyes on the girl who was emerging from the section for the eighteen-year-old girls. Levi knew Tessa quite well on his terms, as they were the same age. She was very tall and slim, with long and wavy red hair. Her hair was in a high ponytail that swept back and forth across the back of her brown dress as she headed towards Tanzanite. Her eyes were dark brown, and her skin was pale and freckly. From what Levi knew, Tessa was friendly and sweet. Totally not material for the Hunger Games. She would stick out like a sore thumb, too, with her flaming red hair and her abysmal height. Levi himself was a little on the short side, with dark brown hair that was so short it was almost—but not quite—buzzed.

Once Tessa had finished wading through the crowd like a mouse through a field of freshly cut grass, Tanzanite made quick business of selecting a male tribute. Levi caught himself holding his breath and released it evenly. He wasn't worried. He was in the clear.

"Your male tribute will be Levi Gail."

_Screw this shit._

Levi attempted to keep his expression neutral. He headed placidly towards Tessa and Tanzanite; he'd rather go on his own terms than get forced there by the peacekeepers. Tessa smiled him.

He gave her the finger.

No one seemed to notice the two as Tanzanite dully closed the reaping. "What was that for?" Tessa asked, her voice more guarded than Levi had expected it to be.

"I don't need your sympathy," he growled.

"Sympathy?" Tessa said, bewildered. "I was reaped, too, you know. Sympathy? No; that's being nice."

Levi snorted. "Very nice, darling," he said satirically.

Whatever response Tessa had, it was cut off by Tanzanite. "Come along," she instructed roughly. "We're on a tight schedule, and I hate being late." Levi followed quickly, escaping the grasp of a peacekeeper that was going to yank him towards his destination. Levi knew that next he would watch Tessa sob goodbyes to her family while Levi stood in the corner and pretended not to notice.

Sure enough, Tessa ran to her mother as soon as they entered the room. Levi leaned against the wall and rolled his eyes. Parents ought to be prepared to say goodbye. The sobs coming from Mrs. Shanley were irritating more than anything. This happened all the time. _Why is it such a shock?_ _There should be lessons or something._

Despite his reasoning, Levi felt a niggling worry in the back of his own mind. Statistically, it was very probable that he would cease to exist in a matter of days.

_No._


	6. For Family

**AN: This chapter is a little shorter than usual, as I only had one reaping left to do.**

Willow nervously twisted the fabric of her fairy-blue dress in her hands. Her name was in the Reaping ball nine times this year. To some of the other District 12 families, it didn't seem like very much. But with three sisters at home, one of which was also up for the reaping, and a father who could hardly care for himself, it was a lot to Willow. That was nine times she could be taken away from her family. Nine times her little sisters could die without her. Nine times she could be killed herself.

From the section for fifteen-year-old girls, Willow couldn't see Anastasia with the other girls experiencing the first Reaping they could be chosen in. She decided this might be better. Seeing her sister might only make her worry more about the prospect of her being reaped.

Before Willow could tear a hole in her dress from worriedly kneading it, the District escort appeared on stage. Her dress was a shimmery silver, just like the one that the escorts of all the other Districts had worn. The woman had gorgeous sapphire hair and luminous eyes of the same color. She strutted over to the microphone, causing a murmur of amusement to ripple through the tense crowd.

"Good morning, District 12!" she greeted cheerily. The gathered crowd stayed resolutely silent. The woman's smile faltered for only a moment before she plastered it back on and said, "My name is Kyanite Enestem, as you may remember." This was greeted with more silence. "Well, alrighty then," Kyanite said awkwardly, blinking. "Ladies first."

She covered the few steps to the girls' Reaping ball, her silver heels clicking. She reached into the ball and made a show of fishing about for a name.

_Don't be me, please, don't be me_, Willow chanted silently. _It can't be me. And don't let it be Anastasia, either. Oh, please, don't let it be Anastasia._

Kyanite had selected a slip. She unfolded it and read the name over before looking up at the crowd. Willow held her breath, her heart racing as she repeated her pleas over and over again in her head. _Not Anastasia. Not Anastasia. Not Anastasia. I don't want it to be me, but not Anastasia either. Please. Please._

"The female tribute from District 12 for the 238th Hunger Games will be Willow Emelda."

For a moment, it seemed that Willow's heart had stopped. Faces all around turned to look at her, and one girl gently pushed her in the back. Willow stumbled forward in a complete state of shock. _This isn't happening. It isn't me. It can't be me. I have to take care of Anastasia! And Stephanie! And Mahogony! And Dad! It can't be me. This is a joke. It isn't me._

But she could see peacekeepers approaching her to take her to the stage. A thick bile rising in her throat, Willow hurried over towards Kyanite, barely avoiding being forced there by the stern peacekeepers. From the crowd, she could swear she heard a muffled sob that sounded heartbreakingly like Mahogony.

"Any volunteers?"

_Don't do it Anastasia_, Willow thought as she glanced over at her sister for the first time since they had headed to their separate sections. But Anastasia wasn't even looking at her. Willow didn't know why she was surprised, but she still felt a stab of hurt. Anastasia wasn't the nicest girl, sure, but Willow loved her. She cared for her. She _raised_ her. But her little sister had no reaction to her being reaped. _Did she _want_ me reaped? _Willow worried for a moment, but she quickly pushed the thought away.

"Congratulations, Willow!" Kyanite said. "Now, on to the boys."

Taking care of her three little sisters and her father had left Willow little time for socializing. As a result of that, she didn't have any friends outside her family. And as she didn't have any brothers, she wasn't worried about the male tribute being chosen. He was going to be some unknown, powerful boy who would slaughter Willow the first chance he got.

She gulped, feeling her face get a little paler as the remaining blood drained from it.

"Your male tribute would be Cedar Thornfall!"

_Wait, what_? Willow thought wildly. As it turned out, she _did_ know Cedar. And the poor boy was _twelve_. He was Anastasia's age! How could he go to the Games? He was from the Seam, just like her. He put up a good show, but he'd never survive. He was _twelve_, for crying out loud.

However, as the short and stocky brown-haired boy walked towards Willow and Kyanite, he appeared to not share Willow's misgivings in the slightest. He held his head high, stalking proudly up to the stage. A whoop sounded from the eighteen-year-old boy section, and a number of people turned to glare.

"Any volunteers?"

Cedar didn't seem bothered in the slightest as no one volunteered to take his place. _You're _twelve_, damn it! Have a reaction!_ Willow screamed in her head. She kept her face nonchalant though she wanted to throttle Cedar and ask him what his problem was. _You're going to die! Don't you realize this?_

"Then this Reaping is over," Kyanite announced. "We now have all twenty-four tributes for the 238th Hunger Games! Don't forget to tune into the live broadcasting of the Games, and may the odds be _ever_ in your favor."

Willow and Cedar both stayed silent as Kyanite ushered them into the building they were in front of. As soon as she set foot into the door, Willow sprinted over to her gathered family. Mahogony was sobbing silently into her father's jeans. Willow wrapped the eight-year-old in a tight hug. She bawled harder when Willow put her down to hug Stephanie, Anastasia, and her father. "Take care of yourselves," Willow pleaded.

Stephanie nodded, business-like. "We'll be rooting for you, sis," the ten-year-old promised. Their father nodded absently.

"Come home, okay?" Mahogony asked through her tears.

Heart melting, Willow nodded. "I will, Mahi," she said, blinking hard to stop herself from beginning to cry. "For you, I will. For you all"

The tribute was briefly aware of Cedar's older brothers laughing rudely, telling their brother he'd never survive. She had half a mind to go over there and tell them to be ashamed of themselves, but a fresh wave of sobs from Mahogony occupied her time until the peacekeepers came to take their families away.

"Come on, come on, you two," Kyanite said lightly, leading Willow and Cedar out of the building. "We'll be boarding the train in a minute or two. The other tributes are all already there. First you'll come to our car, meet your mentors, and have a bite to eat if you wish. Then you can talk to the other tributes in the communal car or stick around with the mentors and I. Time is everything, okay?"

_My family is everything_, Willow thought bluntly. _And I'm coming home to them._


	7. Trains

Alexandrite was watching Ciara with a perplexed and annoyed expression. "In a few days, you're going to be in the arena, where food will be difficult to come by. I'm telling you now that you will regret not eating."

Ciara and Conner were sitting on the train with their escort and mentor. A delicious buffet of food had been delivered by a pair of Avoxes. Conner had shamelessly begun to stuff his face the moment the dishes had touched the table. Ciara, however, sat with her arms crossed on a squishy sofa to the side of the train car.

"I will regret _eating_," Ciara assured with a huff, picking up her left arm and examining her nails with a bored expression. "There wouldn't happen to be any nail polish in this color on this train, would there?" she asked Alexandrite.

"Don't change the subject!" the escort snapped, her striking red hair giving her a wicked appearance. "Eat something. Anything. You'll survive longer if you do."

Scoffing, Ciara flipped her long brown hair over her shoulder. She had taken it down directly after the reaping, the brown hair tie now ringed around her wrist. "Eating this food will only disturb my figure," she said simply, glancing out the window.

The shattering of glass had Ciara whirling around, hair streaming out behind her. Her mentor, Taz, was standing over a broken drinking glass. A few trickles of blood slipped down her hand and left little dark stains on the red carpet. "You are so _stupid_," the woman said decidedly. She ran her unmarred hand through her jet-black pixie cut. She was a head shorter than Ciara, but that didn't stop her from storming right up to her and pointing a glass-punctured, bloody hand at her face.

"If you make it past the bloodbath, I will be shocked. If you're not dead the first night, it will only be because of a miracle."

Ciara eyed the muscular short woman with cold dark brown eyes. "And why are you so sure that I'll be one of the first to die?" she inquired angrily.

Taz snorted. "Well, let me think about that one. You've never had to lift a finger to do a thing in your entire life if you didn't want to. You've always had enough to eat, regardless of whether or not you wanted to eat it, you've had people eating themselves to help you since you could walk, and not to mention that you lack any muscular build-up and frankly seem too stupid to win the Games."

Conner and Alexandrite watched awkwardly as the female tribute and the District 1 mentor glared at each other with daggers in their eyes, each clearly attempting to kill the other without lifting a finger. Finally, it was Alexandrite who broke the silence.

"Taz? Why don't you and I take a walk down the corridor? Ciara and Conner ought to get to know each other better..."

Shooting Ciara one last Look-of-Doom, Taz turned on her heel and followed Alexandrite out into the skinny hallway that ran along the train car, which resembled a small apartment. Conner glanced at the door when it closed, a look of panic crossing over his eyes. He turned to Ciara, mouth full of cheesecake, and swallowed quickly, nearly choking on the mushy dessert.

"Well?" Ciara questioned rudely, taking a seat back down on the sofa.

The boy looked positively mortified of being spoken to. A few moments passed with Ciara's dark brown eyes glaring into Conner's lighter ones before she sighed dramatically and looked away. Conner swallowed again, out of nerves. "I'd ask you if you wanted to be my ally, but I'm afraid you might makeover me to death."

Ciara fixed her gaze back on the boy, slightly narrowing her eyes. He paled, looking back down at his plate and shoveling another forkful of cheesecake into his mouth. "That's what I thought," Ciara spat. "I'm going to see if I can meet some tributes that will make worthwhile allies. Have fun gaining twelve thousand pounds on this Capitol food."

Stepping out into the hallway, Ciara looked left and right. Each side of the car ended in a door. Assuming she would run into the District 2 team if she went right, the girl decided instead to go left and see if she could find the free-for-all car that was open to all tributes. She pushed open the door and was greeted with a meter-long hallway lined with windows on either side. It was the connector between the two cars. Shrugging, she pushed open the next door.

As she had expected, she found a room full of sofas, more food, and a few tributes from other Districts. It was quiet. Taking a chance, Ciara sat daintily down on a sofa that had a pale-skinned, black-haired girl with gray-blue eyes sitting on the other end. Neither girl said anything for a few minutes, each staring off at different tributes. Finally, the other girl turned to look at Ciara.

"Are you _waiting_ for something?" the girl sneered. Ciara fought very hard not to walk over there and sock the chick in the face.

"I figured I'd meet someone better than my worthless District partner if I came here. Guess I was wrong."

For a moment, Ciara thought this might earn her a bruise on her face, but instead the girl smirked. "Yuki," she introduced.

"Ciara," the brown-haired girl responded. "District 1."

"District 3. You planning on being a career?"

"Only if I can find a good group. My weakling District partner is out. You in?"

"We'll see."

The two fell silent. Ciara remembered Taz's stinging words and bit her lip angrily. She was going to_ win_. She wasn't going to be a bloodbath tribute. She had shit to prove to her family back home. Taz thought she was a prissy brat? _Let her think that, _Ciara challenged. _We'll see who's laughing when I'm applying to take her mentor job._

Ciara stood up, figuring her conversation with Yuki was finished. She attempted to push open the two way door and met some resistance. She threw her shoulder into it, but it wouldn't budge. Suddenly she was thrown backwards, stumbling and nearly falling.

"What's your problem?" a short and stocky boy standing in the doorway shouted. "I'm trying to get in!"

"I'm trying to get out, pudgy," Ciara shot back, enjoying the look of rage in his dark brown eyes. The boy was very obviously young. Probably twelve.

The boy curled his hands into fists, breathing heavily. He pulled back an arm, taking aim. Ciara dove out of the way just as a meaty fist came flying towards her stomach. "Chill out, little piggy. I'm not here to blow your house down."

Ciara thought she heard a chuckle from behind her, but she couldn't tell over the angry boy's yell. "Make fun!" he shouted. "But I'm going to bring a victory to District 12 this year!"

"Who told you that? Your imaginary friend?"

"I'm twelve!" he protested angrily.

"Exactly."

Before either of them could make another move, the door opened again. "Cedar," a soothing voice said. A girl who looked to be a little younger than Ciara appeared, icy blue eyes stern. "Don't pick fights. You'll only get in trouble with Kyanite and Sammy."

Cedar shot the girl—probably his District partner, Ciara decided—a look. "Don't boss me around, _Willow_." He said her name like it was the biggest insult. _Typical little boy,_ Ciara thought to herself with a snort. Willow merely sighed.

"I'm going back to our section. Don't make enemies of everyone on the train."

Ciara darted out the door after Willow before the twelve-year-old Cedar could take another shot at her.

_Tantrum-throwing kids. Winning the Games is going to be easy._

* * *

><p>"This food is <em>so good<em>," Thane said around a mouthful of freshly baked chicken. He swallowed hastily and put a forkful of sticky white rice in his mouth.

"You're acting like you don't live in one of the richest Districts," Anja pointed out, mildly disgusted. She ate a leaf of her lettuce from her salad, chewing politely and dabbing her mouth with a napkin.

Thane sighed. "You're acting like looks actually matter anymore."

"Looks always matter," Anja told him, her voice sounding like a purr. "What if I run into any hot guys? How the hell am I supposed to talk to them if I look like crap?"

Putting down his fork, Thane rolled his eyes. "Okay, number one is that you're gorgeous, Anja. Everybody knows that. Like, no matter what, I'm sure you couldn't do something unattractive and not-beautiful even if you wanted to. Number two is that I don't know if you noticed, but we're in the _Hunger Games_ now. You need to be worrying about your _survival_, not your make-up. For instance, eating to build up your strength." He picked up his fork and took another bite of his meal, as if she needed an example.

"This advice is brought to you live from the barefoot man," Anja shot back, her dark blue eyes ungrateful. "All I have to do is flirt with the guy most likely to win, and bam. Problem solved. If I play it right, he'll care too much for me to kill me to win."

"You know, Anja," Thane started, losing his patience, "not all guys like it when you flirt with and seduce them. Some guys actually want to get to know a girl instead of getting a full view of her boobs in the first ten minutes."

"Says you," Anja waved off. "Besides, only tall guys get to see extra cleavage. It's not like I pull down my top for them to get free porn."

"Fifth grade."

"It was one time!"

Thane grinned at Anja, finishing off his chicken and rice. He reached for the chocolate cake and cut himself a generous slice. Anja watched him with a curled lip as he piled sliced strawberries next to the dessert, buried them in whipped cream, and coated the fluffy white mess in criss-crossing lines of hot fudge.

But before he ate, he looked up at Anja, suddenly serious. "Just be careful, okay?"

Giving him a confused look, Anja nodded slowly. "Um, okay?" she guessed. "I can't watch you eat that disaster. I'm blowing this joint."

"I hope that isn't a double entendre."

Anja stuck her tongue out at Thane, reaching for the doorknob. It opened before her hand even touched it, and Morganite appeared with a pixie-like girl in tow. The girl had shoulder-length brown hair and innocent green eyes. She looked like she could be another tribute. Thane cast Morganite a questioning look.

"Sorry for the wait, guys," the pink-haired woman said breathlessly. "Sage is terribly shy. She's your mentor."

A loud snort sounded from Anja, and Thane glared at her. The seventeen-year-old winced apologetically, shrugging. Morganite sighed, rubbing her bright silver eyes. "Just wanted to introduce you all. We'll talk strategy tonight; I want you two start meeting other tributes while you can. Sage thinks you should really focus on training rather than friend-making during the training sessions. Since it's unorthodox to visit the floors of other tributes, this is your best chance. Okay?"

Anja didn't need telling twice. She disappeared before Thane even finished his nod. The boy sighed as Morganite and Sage left again. He shoveled down his cake, not worried about manners while no one was around. When he had finished the very last strawberry he sat back in his chair, patting his stomach.

"Well, off to make friends, then."

Pushing back his chair, Thane got to his feet. He brushed a few stray crumbs off of his Reaping clothes and headed to the door. The carpet was plush and relaxing under his bare feet that were so used to sharp stones and sun-baked dirt. He relished each step across the red flooring, wondering if the hallway would have the same luxurious feel beneath his feet.

He was just closing the door behind him when a tall force slammed into him. He staggered back a few steps, catching the girl that had smashed into him. "Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry!" she was yelling. Thane helped her to her feet. She was close to his height, maybe an inch shorter than his 5'11", with long and wavy red hair. Her dark brown eyes were pleading for forgiveness. Thane chuckled.

"Don't worry about it," he told her, patting her on the shoulder. The girl smiled in relief. Thane noticed she had a splattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. He gave a bemused smile at his own train of thought.

"I'm Tessa," the girl introduced to fill the awkward silence. "From District 11."

"Thane from Two," he responded. As the shock of the collision wore off, Thane could swear he could see the friendliness leaving her eyes. Her smiled had faded, and she was watching Thane apprehensively. "Have I said something...?" the boy ventured, confused.

Tessa shook her head. "I'm sorry," she said quickly. "It's just that you're from District 2, and—"

"And you're worried I might be a career?"

"Well, ye—"

"I'm not."

The two stood their in an awkward silence for a few minutes. Thane leaned against the wall of the District 2 compartment and stared out the windows on the other side. Tessa had seemed so nice. _What's wrong with being from District 2? Is she always like this? I'm eighteen; how can I still not understand girls?_

"Sorry," Tessa said quietly. "My mom always says I'm too quick to jump to conclusions and that I need to lighten up around new people or I'll never make any friends."

"Why would she say that?" Thane asked. "If you don't mind me asking, that is."

A smile broke across Tessa's face. "It's alright," she chortled. "I just tend to have trouble trusting people I don't know. You seem nice enough, though."

It was Thane's turn to laugh. "Thanks. You, too," he complimented. Tessa blushed at this, highlighting the freckles Thane had noticed earlier.

_Well, mission accomplished, Morganite._

**AN: I had trouble ending this chapter. But now we're finally getting into the fun stuff. :D Reviews are always appreciated.**


	8. Pointless Regrets

"Acton."

The seventeen-year-old boy ignored this, shoveling a massive fork of steak into his mouth. He speared a couple pieces of asparagus and crammed them in next to the steak, chewing noisily.

"Acton."

Working his teeth furiously, Acton finally swallowed. He jerked his head to the side, swinging a few stray strands of his hazelnut-colored hair out of his eyes. "Yes?" he asked, already collecting another mouthful of food onto his fork.

"Could you stop eating for two seconds? We have things to discuss now that Yuki is back."

Acton slid the food off his fork and onto his tongue, putting down his fork as he devoured the meat. He looked up expectantly at his mentor, Rose. "Get on with it. I'm still hungry."

"Watch your mouth, boy," Rose snapped. Her forest green eyes held a hard glint in them as she glared at Acton. "You'd to good to listen closely to what Yuki observed. It could be the difference between life and death."

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Acton faked a meek nod. Rose smiled and turned to face Rhodochrosite, who was bouncing slightly in her chair. Her zebra-striped hair jiggled slightly as she did so, her green eyes wide and bright. "Would you calm down?" Rose asked in an exasperated tone. The escort stopped moving abruptly and nodded once. Rose shook her head, chuckling.

Yuki cleared her throat. "So can I get on with my report?" she asked impatiently. Rose nodded, her bobbed dark brown hair shaking. "Okay," the girl said, running a hand through her own black hair. "The girl from District 1—Ciara—seems to be a bit of a dimwit. She seems more concerned with vanity rather than survival. She says that she wants to form a career group, but she doesn't seem to have the wits to get very far in the Games.

"The boy from District 12 is has potential to be a pain. He's twelve-years-old and obviously has violent tendencies. He thinks he's going to win. I think he could be an asset if he gets his shit together, but he has the air of a bomb that's ready to go off.

"Willow's the girl from District 12. Looks to be about fifteen. She seems too soft to make it far, but that could end up being a positive feature to a team. I think she has little siblings, judging by how she was treating Cedar, and probably knows valuable information on healing and cooking.

"Those were the only three that I heard say anything. But I also saw the redheaded boy who I think is from District 9. Looks young and scrawny, but attentive enough. If he applies himself, he could be a contender in the Games. The chick from District 10 looks like a force to be reckoned with, as does the boy from Eleven and the girl from Eight."

Rose had been nodding dutifully through this whole speech. When Yuki fell silent, she took a moment to collect her thoughts before speaking. Acton stole the moment while she was glancing at the table to stuff another pile of food into his mouth. Yuki shot him a disgusted look while he chewed quickly, covering his mouth with his hand when Rose looked back at the two tributes.

"I'd stay away from the girl from District 1. Ciara, did you say her name was?" Yuki nodded. "She seems like she'll just weigh any allies she makes down. I agree with that you said about the boy from Twelve, Yuki. It is possible that he could be a burden, but he might also be a formidable opponent that you want on your side. I would keep an eye on him in training and try to stay on his good side.

"His District partner isn't worth it. You'd be better off learning basic medicine during the training sessions. The boy from Nine is the same deal; he might be useful at some point, but in the long run you'd better just learn what you can and hope it's enough.

"As for the last three, I'd just keep an eye on them. If you feel it'd really be beneficial, ally up with them. Sound good?"

Yuki nodded. Acton took this as an okay to take another bite of his cooling steak. He heaped the remains of the meal onto his fork and ate it, chewing contentedly.

"Sound good, Acton?" Rose pressed.

"Yes, ma'am," Acton confirmed around a mouthful of food, spraying tiny bits of it all over his plate. All three of the women in the train car recoiled slightly from him simultaneously. The boy merely shrugged and took a massive slice of apple pie for himself. He drowned it in whipped cream and began to eat.

Yuki sighed. "This is disgusting. Can I leave?"

Rose nodded. "Sure. Take what I said and work with it. You want to make allies early; you'll be at an advantage in the way of trust when it gets down to the final few tributes." Yuki flashed a quick smile of understanding at the District 3 mentor before escaping the room.

Rhodochrosite was trying her best not to watch Acton. "I think I'll go look for one of my sisters," she decided, getting to her feet. "Later, Rose, Acton..." The bubbly escort flounced out of the room, silver dress still sparkling furiously.

Glancing out the window, Rose got to her feet as well. "It's looking like it might rain. I'm going to try and get some sleep before any storms come." She headed out of the mini-dining room towards one of the four small bedrooms in the abnormally large train car.

Abandoning any trace of manners he may have had, Acton wolfed down his slice of pie. He then helped himself to three scoops of chocolate ice cream from a little cooler on the side of the table. When that was finished, he popped a few strawberries into his mouth, enjoying their tangy flavor. He got to his feet and stretched his arms out over his head. "That was good," he decided aloud.

Observing the train car with a bored expression, Acton decided it was high time he went and mingled with some of the other tributes. Yuki was already on a second round. Not bothering to push in his chair, Acton grabbed a last handful of strawberries before heading out the door.

In the hallway, there were two doors. Acton looked left and right, shrugging. He stepped a little ways out into the hallway, spinning a circle. Finally, he decided on his age old method of decision making, usually used in picking which hot girl to flirt with. "Eenie, meenie, miney, moe, catch a tiger by the toe. If he hollers, let him go, eenie, meenie, miney, moe. My mother told me to pick the very best one and that is you red white and BLUE."

Acton glanced at his hand, pointing towards the door to the left of him. "Well, guess I'm going this way," he said decidedly, heading off down the corridor and pushing open the door that it ended in. After walking through the connector between the two cars, he found himself in a hallway identical to the one he had just been standing in. Shrugging, he walked lazily down this second hallway.

He pushed open the door into the connector piece just as the door on the other side swung open. The tall boy found himself face-to-face with a girl a head shorter than him. Acton stood there stupidly as the walking porcelain doll watched him with her dark blue eyes. She had curly dark brown hair that fell a little ways past the shoulders. Surprisingly, Acton found it almost easy to continue to stare at her face rather than her boobs.

_Definitely the hottest chick I've ever seen. Hotter than Rhodochrosite and Yuki combined._

"Hey," Acton finally said, making his voice a little deeper than it was naturally.

The girl smirked, flashing her bright white teeth. Acton bit his lip with concentration as the girl fixed her top to show a tad more of her chest than it had been when they first bumped into each other. "Hi," she returned.

_Come on, man_, Acton thought wildly to himself. _You have this in the bag. You've got seventeen years of experience behind you. You can talk to hot chicks. _But he drew a complete blank. He couldn't just ask her name or her District. That wasn't _interesting_. This chick needed to fall for him, and fall for him quickly. Out of habit, Acton tensed his muscles slightly to give them a bit more definition.

"Are you _flexing?_" the girl giggled, poking one of Acton's arms playfully. The boy quickly relaxed, feeling a little color rush to his cheeks.

"No, I'm just naturally that attractive," Acton said with a cocky grin. The girl giggled again. _God, she's hot when she giggles._

"You're cute," she told him, smiling. "Name and District?"

It sounded almost business-like, the way she said it. Acton shrugged this off, answering, "Acton Cuthbert, District 3. Yourself?"

"Anja Nadezhda of District 2," she replied. Acton blinked, trying to figure out whether he imagined her moving just a bit closer to her or not. She merely continued to smile at him, and he finally got it through his head that he should return that smile. This made her laugh again, and Acton's ego swelled.

"So," Anja said. Despite her actions, her voice was still calm and had a meeting-type air to it. "You planning on being a career?"

Acton merely shrugged. "I dunno. Depends who the other careers are going to be, I guess."

"That isn't a winner's attitude."

"Try me."

Anja stared up at him, her dark blue eyes displaying an emotion Acton couldn't put his finger on. After a moment, her face broke back into her dazzling smile. "Can I hold you to that offer?"

"Please do."

* * *

><p>Skye picked aimlessly at her scallops. She had picked the dish because she thought it would make her feel better to eat something familiar, but the seafood didn't taste at all like home, and it only depressed her further to think about her parents back in District 4.<p>

"Eat."

The redheaded girl looked up, her face going pale as she noticed that the tall and muscular man leaning against the wall had spoken to her. She merely watched him with wide brown eyes. He narrowed his own icy blue ones. "Did you not hear me? I told you to eat."

Fumbling, Skye picked up her fork and took a bite. The flavor was excellent, but it tasted so far from the scallops she grew up loving. She swallowed, the food feeling awkward and foreign in her mouth. She glanced up at her mentor, who had stopped watching her.

Citrine had introduced him a few minutes ago as "47." Skye was positive she had misheard the escort. Either that or the yellow-haired woman hadn't said his name at all and merely told Ash and Skye his age. _But why would she do that?_ Skye wondered, taking another miniscule bite of her food.

Either way, the man terrified Skye. He had short gray hair and a gray mustache. He was far taller than Skye's 5'4", with more muscle than Skye could ever hope to have. Probably more muscle than two of her combined. His mysterious name didn't help the cause.

Ash seemed completely unaware of this "47." He was tearing hungrily through a full rack of ribs. The thirteen-year-old boy was eating like he had never eaten food in his entire life. Skye took another teeny bite of her scallops just so that her mentor wouldn't speak to her again.

"I want you two out of the cabin in ten minutes," the man said suddenly, leaning away from the wall and taking a few steps towards the table. Skye flinched, staring determinedly at her plate.

"Why?" Ash piped up.

"You need to start meeting other tributes," "47" told them. "You'll be better off if you do."

Skye grimaced at her meal. She wasn't fond of meeting new people and making new friends. These facts were supported by the notion that one of the people on the train with her was going to murder her. _I'm going to die,_ Skye reminded herself quietly, taking another bite in hopes that it would stop her from crying.

This failed spectacularly, as the bitter reminder of District 4 shoved her unceremoniously over the edge. Tears leaking out of her eyes, Skye jerkily pushed her plate away and got to her feet, spinning around quickly so that "47", Ash, and Citrine wouldn't notice her tears. She hurried down the hallway, kicking off her Reaping shoes and closing the door of one of the four tiny bedrooms behind her.

She sat down on the bed, rubbing her eyes and trying to stifle her sobs so the other three wouldn't worry about her. She stood up and locked the door before sitting cross-legged on the floor, leaning with her back against the bed.

The room really was quite small. The bed occupied most of the space. Next to the end of it was a little desk coupled with a rolling chair. There was a window above the desk that showed the landscape whipping by as the train sped towards the Capitol. The sky was quite dark, but Skye was sure it wasn't late. As if to answer her question, a few raindrops splattered against the window. If Skye listened close enough, she fancied she could hear the downpour beating steadily on the roof over the roaring of the train.

"I want to go home," she moaned quietly. She got up at sat down in the desk chair. She pulled out the drawer, giving a weak smile through her tears as she found a stack of paper and pens. Selecting a red pen and a sheet of paper, Skye closed the drawer and began to write.

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_I hope you're doing better than I am. I've only been away from District 4 for a few hours and I already miss it more than I can say. I had some scallops earlier and they didn't taste like they way we used to make them. They were spiced and heavy, rather than natural and light._

_More than the food and the ocean, though, I miss you. I know I'll never see District 4 again, but it's you that I'll miss the most._

_Because, frankly, I'm going to die in the arena. My mentor told me to meet tributes, but all I can think about is how one of them is going to kill me. I know that if I talk to anyone aside from Ash, all I'll be able to think about it how the person I am talking to might be the one to kill me in a few days. Even Ash could kill me if he wanted it badly enough._

_Mum, Dad, I love you. I don't think I ever said that to you enough. I love you, and I don't want to die._

Before Skye could finish the letter, the handle of her door rattled and then opened. Panicking, she crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed it into the corner. She swiveled around in her chair to see Ash standing there.

"Was I interrupting something?" he asked hesitantly, glancing at the faulty doorknob.

Skye shook her head quickly, her face red with embarrassment. "No," she rushed. "No, no, no, you're fine. I was just being stupid. I'm being stupid." She rubbed the last tears away from her eyes roughly, trying to smile at Ash. The boy was thirteen. He was too young to know how to comfort girls.

"Oh, okay," the short boy said awkwardly, confusion plain in his brilliant green eyes. "Well, 47 figured that I should tell you I'm leaving to meet some tributes."

_So I guess 47 _is_ his real name. That's odd. _"Okay," Skye said. "I think I'll stay here a bit." Ash nodded, closing the door. Skye could hear his footsteps as he walked back to the dining room and exited the train car.

_I guess I'll have to go out there eventually_, Skye thought with a tiny sigh. She got to her feet, noticing a mirror on the wall next to the door. She picked an eyelash off her face, holding it up to her eyes on her forefinger. _I wish that I will make back to District 4 alive_, she thought, blowing on the eyelash. It twirled off her finger and out of sight. With a final glance at her appearance—which still betrayed that she had been crying—Skye opened the door and stepped out into the little hallway.

She avoided looking at 47 and Citrine as she passed by. The two stopped their conversation abruptly as Skye walked past. The red-head looked away determinedly, opening the door and exiting the apartment-like compartment.

She turned left in the hallway, figuring it would lead her up front. She passed through three hallways identical to the first one before she finally pushed open a door with a different view. The room was like a party room, with sofas and a buffet. There was an open space and what looked like a music player in one corner.

Tributes were scattered all about the room. It certainly wasn't all twenty-four, but it was still frightening to Skye. She covered her face with a hand, sitting down on the first couch she could see. She folded her hands into her lap and stared at them intensely.

"Are you okay?"

Skye jumped as the voice sounded a few inches away from her. Her head snapped to face it. She found herself face-to-face with a boy who had the same flaming red hair as she did. He looked to be about her age, maybe a little younger. His eyes were light green, and they looked earnest and worried.

"I'm fine," Skye told him, forcing a smile.

"You sure?" he pressed. "You look a little green."

"Do I?" Skye asked fretfully, patting her cheeks.

The boy nodded a couple times, wincing as though to show he felt her pain. "I'm just terrified of strangers," Skye admitted. "And the group of people who will kill me was a bit much to handle."

_Oh, God, what if this boy kills me? He could be the one that kills me._

"Maybe we should get a medic; you're looking worse."

"I'm fine, I promise," Skye told him quickly. He still looked concerned, so Skye figured she ought to just try and steer him away from the topic. "What's your name?"

He blinked. "I'm Chester. I'm from District 9. What about yourself?"

"Skye. I'm from District 4."

Chester smiled at her. "Well, Skye, you seem really nice," he complimented brightly. Skye flushed a deep shade of red, which made the boy chuckle. Skye forced a little laugh, feeling awkward.

Before she could say anything frightfully stupid, another voice broke in. "You wouldn't happen to of seen October Tyne, my District partner, would you?" Skye turned to see a blonde, tall, and muscular boy watching her and Chester with bright green eyes. Skye shook her head, not wanting to make a complete fool of herself like she had for Chester.

"That's a shame," he sighed. "Would you mind letting me know if you do? I'm Marshall from District 10, by the way."

"Skye, District 4," she whispered.

"And I'm Chester, from District 9," the boy beside Skye chirped.

Marshall smiled at the two. "It's nice to meet you both. October's fourteen and rather short, with thick brown shoulder-length hair and green eyes. Okay?" Skye merely nodded again, trying her best to keep her mouth shut.

This seemed to amuse him. _Why is being shy so hilarious?_ Skye thought, exasperated. "See you around," she finally said softly. Marshall smiled at her.

"Will do."

**AN: I hope you liked this chapter. I had a good amount of fun writing it. Reviews are always appreciated~**


	9. Perfection

Chester pressed his nose eagerly up to the window of the train car as Seraphinite called to him and Thea that they were pulling into the Capitol. His bright green eyes stretched wide as the powerful capital of Panem came into view. It was like nothing the young District boy had ever seen.

"This sure isn't District 9," he murmured in awe as he tried to look everywhere at once. There were daunting, massive buildings that seemed to scrape the flawless blue sky, leaving white scratches of clouds.

The Capitol didn't revolve around the sun. The sun revolved around _it_.

The buildings were every color Chester had ever seen and then some. Red, blue, yellow, green, magenta, striped, rainbow, fuchsia, navy blue, the blackest black imaginable, the brightest white fathomable, the loudest orange anyone had ever seen. The houses ranged from the size of a typical one-story District 9 house to multi-story mansions that fanned out around the edge of the bright city streets that lay towards the center. Gardens exploded from backyards and front yards and window boxes and pots. Vines stole the tree trunks, roses bloomed three times the size of any the boy had ever seen, bushes were cut into shapes and designs. It was fantastic, it was unbelievable, it was like a dream.

A nightmare.

Chester pulled away from the window, his heart hammering in his chest as though he had just woken up from a horrifying concoction of his subconscious. He was relieved to hear the District 9 escort calling him to the main room of the train car. He glanced out at the window one last time and noticed the tracks were elevated, spiraling down to the station. He noticed cars, things he had only read about in school books.

He raced to the dining-and-living room, fear replaced with excitement. "Seraphinite, do you think we'll get to ride in a car? I've always wanted to. Maybe if I'm extra careful they'll let me take one apart and look at it! Do you think so?"

Seraphinite ignored him completely. Thea giggled quietly behind her curtain of silky chestnut-colored hair. For a moment, Chester's smile faltered, but he plastered it back on as the woman with the dark green hair began to speak.

"Now, when the train comes to a stop, you will be escorted to the training center—"

"In a car?" Chester interjected hopefully.

"—Where you will be prepped for the chariot rides that are happening this evening—"

"Will we go to the chariot rides in a car?"

"—You are expected to do exactly as your prep team and stylists tell you. After the chariot rides, you will be escorted back to the training center—"

"ARE WE GOING TO BE RIDING IN ANY CARS?" Chester burst out.

Seraphinite gave a heavy sigh, turning to face the fourteen-year-old boy with an exasperated expression. "The train station is right next to the training center, as is the arena for the chariot rides. You will not be riding in any cars no matter how badly you want to, and you certainly will not be allowed to take one apart or drive one yourself. You are a piece of the Hunger Games. Your purpose is to entertain the Capitol, not to have the Capitol entertain you."

He lowered his head, staring intently at his feet. _Of course. I was just being stupid_, Chester thought obligingly, blinking furiously as Seraphinite continued.

"The training center has a lobby and twelve other floors, one for each of the Districts. We will obviously be on the 9th floor after the ground floor. To get there, just push the button marked "9" in the elevator. It would be best for you not to visit the floors of the other Districts, no matter how strong an alliance you make."

_You're going to die; no point making friends with the ones to kill you. You can't win, you're just a stupid little boy who likes cars._

Chester breathed in and out evenly as he felt the train begin to slow down. "You'll be shown to the District floor before being sent down to be prepped for the chariots," Seraphinite said as a final word. Chester felt himself nodding, but he couldn't think of why he was doing the action. He stilled his head, looking out the window at the shiny and clean train station. Nothing like the rusty, run-down station back at home. The boy sighed, looking away from the window and glancing at Thea. She gave him a tiny, sympathetic smile which he returned shyly before looking away.

Seraphinite ushered them out of the train car. The first thing Chester noticed was that the rain from earlier had disappeared. The second thing he noticed was the pleasant smell that hung in the air. It didn't smell like dirt or death or sickness—scents District 9 had caused him to be accustomed to. The air smelled of flowers and baked goods and hairspray. It melded together to form a soothing aroma that caught Chester in a daze as he was led inside.

Entering the lobby came with a whole new wave of curiosity. Every surface was sterilized and scrubbed to shining point. The floor was tiled with a red that reflected those who walked over it. Chester shivered and tore his eyes away from the crimson, wondering if it served a purpose greater than simple decor. The hall was lined with metal couches accented with deep red cushions. There was a great chrome desk at the head of the room. A woman with striking vermilion hair sat with her feet up on the desk, her red high heels tapping aimlessly against the surface. She had next to her a bottle of deep red nail polish and was casually painting the talon-like nails on her fingers. Seraphinite waved the tributes off towards the polished elevator doors with Reese while she went over to the desk.

A little excitement returned to Chester as he hit the button on the wall. He'd never ridden in an elevator before. After a quick pause the doors slid open and the three stepped inside. Chester hardly noticed the red carpeting as he hit the button labeled "9" on the panel. The small room gave a little shake and began to shoot upwards. Chester grabbed onto the metal railing and grinned. The elevator shuddered to a stop and the doors slid open, revealing their quarters for the next few days.

Chester stepped out with Thea and Reese behind him into a large living room. The couches were a playful light green color with a white throw rug between them. The floors were a light hardwood, impeccably treated. There were leafy potted plants placed throughout the room. A massive TV separated the two couches, facing a massive window. To the right was a green wall displaying framed pictures of previous winners from District 9. To the left was the kitchen and dining room, separated by a white marbled-topped breakfast bar. The appliances were top notch, better than Chester had ever seen. A hallway led past the living and dining rooms for several dozen meters, the walls dotted with doors.

"There's a bedroom for each of you, as well as one for me and one for Seraphinite," Reese explained in her quiet voice. "Each room has a bathroom of its own. If you need anything, ever, avoxes will always be around to service you. Now, it's time to see your stylists."

* * *

><p>It was all so perfect.<p>

Too perfect.

Letting out an ear-splitting shriek, October launched herself out of the elevator. She had to fix it. It couldn't be so perfect. She threw herself at the deep blue couch nearest to her and flung the cushions across the room. One of the picture frames on the wall fell, shattering the glass. The sound excited October. She took the other three cushions and catapulted them, causing two more frames to fall.

Vaulting over a couch to the nearest potted plant, she dealt a fierce kick to the pot. Dirt spilled across the clean wooden floors. She tore a few leaves off the thing before bracing one foot against the pot and uprooting the whole damn thing with an impressive heave.

She pivoted on her heel, catching a glimpse of a shocked Marshall and Howlite in her peripheral vision. She grinned, flinging open the kitchen cabinets and sweeping the dinner plates out with gusto. They hit the smooth tile floor with a deafening crash. October cackled.

Footsteps sounded behind her. Marshall was approaching quickly, his body tense. "October, get a hold of yourself," he said, his voice wavering slightly. The girl was faintly aware of the elevator doors opening again.

His face was perfect.

Too perfect.

With a mighty snarl, October pulled back her fist and connected it with his perfect nose. The boy stumbled back in horror, clutching his face. A set of applauding hands caught October's attention. Her green eyes, sparkling with rage, honed in on the source of the sound.

Slash.

Her mentor was leaning against the open door of the elevator, his scarred hands slowly praising her performance. He straightened up and stepped out of the elevator. The doors closed behind him. His dark brown eyes fixed themselves onto October's green ones. He gave a twisted smile.

"It's wrong to encourage fighting between tributes when it's against the rules, but hell, that was quite a show. I give my respects to whoever taught you to punch like that. It's a shame the room is such a sty now, but you can't win them all."

He chuckled—if it could be called chuckling—at his own joke before continuing.

"You have guts, and I like that." Turning to Marshall, he added, "Your stylists will clean you up. I won't doubt that bitch is broken, but they can make it look just fine for the chariots, and it won't hold you up in the arena.

"Speaking of stylists, it's time to meet yours. And will someone clean this up?"

An avox appeared immediately. If he was shocked to see the mess, his face didn't betray it. He simply began to pick up the cushions of the couches, stepping carefully to avoid the broken glass.

Slash led October and Marshall—still covering his nose with his hands—back to the elevator. They returned to the lobby and went through a door at the back of the room. A staircase lay behind it, and at the foot of that there stretched a long hallway. Another flight of stairs and they found themselves in a room very different from the one they had just left.

The entire room was a striking white color. In contrast, the furniture consisted of loud neon colors. Bright orange couches, sunny yellow throw rugs, hot pink pillows, neon green plants, brilliant blue picture frames. October blinked furiously to rid her eyes of the spots that were swimming before them.

Before a word could be said, two prep teams swooped out of an elevator that blended into the wall so well that October had not previously noticed it. The sight of the gaggle caused a little bile to rise in her throat, and she swallowed quickly to avoid vomiting.

She didn't have a second to take in Marshall's group before her own prep team whisked her into the elevator and sent them upwards. "I'm Celebrite!" a young woman chirped. Her skin was silver, and it sparkled when it caught the light. Her hair was a violent pink color, creating a watermelon effect with her bright green eyes. "I'm your very own prep-person-thing. Joshua here will also be playing prep, but he's your real stylist," she added, flashing a smile at the handsome young man standing next to her. His hair was a radiant red color. In contrast, the color of his eyes was so dark that they looked like two gleaming black orbs.

"I thought I had a few people in a prep team, then a stylist," October said accusingly.

"Times have changed, dearie!" Celebrite sang, leading October out of the elevator and into a room filled with mirrors and make-up and clothes and appliances October could only assume were used in the process of taking someone from dirty District child to glamorous Capitol star. The two didn't waste time.

"Go on then," Joshua said, his voice smooth and dark. "Undress so we can get a look at you."

October flushed a deep red. "No, thank you," she said as coolly as she could, looking anywhere but at the two Capitol citizens.

Celebrite gave the girl a sympathetic smile. "There's no need to be embarrassed, hon. This is our job. It's not like we're going to rape you."

_Oh, that's comforting, _October thought dryly, reaching begrudgingly for the hem of her top.

**AN: Oh look, an update! If you care for status reports on updates and life, feel free to check my profile. Reviews are always appreciated~**


	10. Chariot Tears

The night of the chariot rides.

Erik, Marcus, and Damien sat in front of the television. Erik, the father, stared straight ahead at the screen, his face utterly emotionless. Marcus' face held a smirk, a sarcastic comment sitting on the tip of his tongue. Damien looked abysmal, staring down at his fingernails and sighing every couple of minutes.

The screen lit up all at once, and a flashy Capitol announcer appeared on the screen, welcoming them to the chariot rides for the 238th Hunger Games.

"She's hot," Marcus offered with boyish smile.

Damien rolled his eyes, elbowing his brother sharply in the side. Marcus jumped and turned to face his brother, his smile gone and his hands curling into fists. Erik's face whipped away from the screen. "Boys!" he barked.

Marcus immediately settled back into the couch, folding his hands in his lap. "Sorry," he mumbled.

The gates on the screen were flung open and the heads of two snow white horses came into view. The chariot they pulled came after. For a moment, Marcus thought he saw his father smile.

Ciara stood proudly, her posture impeccable and her smile radiant. She wore a sequined silver mini dress that hugged her curves, paired with silver spike heels and a hat shaped like a diamond. It looked a bit like she was wearing a transparent meringue cookie on her head, but it worked. She waved at the crowd and they went wild.

In comparison to her, the boy standing next to her was a speck of dirt. He was dressed in a tight silver jumpsuit and silver combat boots, and his usually sandy brown hair had been dyed silver. He looked dashing, but he slouched slightly and his smile was obviously forced.

"Ciara, of course, is lapping up the attention," Marcus remarked.

"If it gets the slut sponsors, let her do it. She's not smart enough to get out of there alive on her own."

* * *

><p>Agnes Doherty sat by herself in the home she had shared with her only son up until a few days ago. A box of tissues sat beside her, a wastebasket at her feet. She blew her nose as the chariot rides were announced. The thirty-nine-year-old woman held her breath as the District 1 chariot came into view.<p>

She could hardly see her son next to Ciara.

She sparkled and shone and radiated confidence. Conner slouched and couldn't keep a smile on his face.

"Come on, baby," she whispered. "Show momma a smile. Please. Just one smile..."

A fresh wave of tears dripped from her pale blue eyes.

* * *

><p>Eta sat rigid on the couch, her hands clasped tightly together, her pale eyes fixed desperately on the screen. Her husband, Pierre, sat next to her, an arm hanging limply around her shoulder.<p>

The District 1 chariot had been out of the gates for only a few seconds and the crowd was already in love with them.

"Poor Lance won't stand a chance after that girl's sparkle..." Eta remarked quietly.

"Thane," Pierre corrected.

Eta blinked. "Right."

Two dusky gray horses appeared, tugging a carriage that contained the tall Thane Absolum with his District partner, Anja Nadezhda. Anja was clothed in a floor-length dress that looked to be made of stone-colored beads. The cameras zoomed in and the crowds discovered it was made of tiny pebbles all strung together.

"Such a pretty girl," Eta murmured as Anja smiled and waved at the crowd.

Thane gave an easy smile, though if the cameras were to zoom in it would be apparent that his brown eyes were devoid of such emotion. He wore khaki pants, artfully covered in dirt and dust. A tight-fitting white v-neck hugged his chest under a casual unzipped vest.

"He's wearing shoes," Pierre observed, his eyes on the black combat boots his son wore. "He looks tough."

"Lance is tough."

"Thane."

* * *

><p>Viktor Nadezhda stood up and applauded when his dear daughter came into view. She looked elegant rather than slutty, which was a sight for the sore eyes of her father. She and her District partner both put on brave smiles for the Capitol. They shone together, rather than just one of them sparkling along and the other sinking into the shadows, like in the case of District 1.<p>

"She'll get sponsors, my girl will," Viktor said, pride in his voice as he sat back down.

_Anja'll show everyone. She'll win._

* * *

><p>"Oh, jeez, he looks ridiculous," Nick snorted as his brother's carriage emerged from the gates, pulled by pitch black stallions. Acton was clothed in some ridiculous swishy black outfit covered in twinkling lights. "I am actually ashamed to be related to him."<p>

"Nick!" Beth scolded whacking her son on the head with the book in her lap. "Your brother could d—"

She broke off, glancing down at her lap and shutting her mouth.

"Sorry, Mom," Nick mumbled, turning his attention back to the screen.

Acton's absurd interpretive-night-sky-dance outfit was mirrored onto Yuki as a short, billowy dress covered with the same twinkling lights. The crowd was torn between laughing and cheering. Acton flashed a cocky grin at them and the ladies went wild. Even dressed practically in drag, Acton could work a crowd. Yuki, on the other hand, looked positively pissed off. She stood with perfect posture, staring straight ahead with a poker face.

Easy as brook water, Acton slipped his arm over her shoulders and tugged her close. To Nick's great surprise and applause, she didn't pull away. She whispered something to Acton and he laughed out loud, nodding.

"That's my brother," Nick announced, respect ringing in his voice.

* * *

><p>"Xi, I swear, you get down here right now!"<p>

Jonathan's angry shout rang through the house. "The screening is mandatory, and you've already missed the first two Districts! If you don't watch your goddamn twin sister, you won't live to watch another second of these damn Games!"

"Calm your farm," Xi said, gliding down the stairs. "I'm here."

His father plopped back down on the couch, seething. "Look, it's her chariot."

"Acton looks damn hilarious," Xi said with a chuckle, not even looking at his sister. He stood up to leave.

This only further angered his father.

"That's it? Not a word about your sister? Your _twin?_"

Xi glared at his father through dark gray-blue eyes. "Have you ever stopped to think that this might be just as hard for me as it has been for you? Yuki is my fucking twin. We both know she isn't going to live to see District 3 again. I remember that every time I sit down on the couch to watch the goddamn screening. They won't know if I sit upstairs and try to not think about it. Give me this."

"You're the worst goddamn brother I've ever known."

* * *

><p>Pauline burst into tears the minute Skye appeared on screen, pulled by two blue-gray horses. "Look at our beautiful daughter! Our only child!" she moaned.<p>

Gael patted her on the back, his own eyes misty. "Look at how pretty she is," he consoled. "She'll get sponsors for sure."

Skye wore a mini dress that looked like the scales of a fish. It was blue, with hints of green and purple here and there. The back of the dress fanned out in a below-the-waist dome behind her. A rounded hat of the same color sat on her head. Whatever they said about complementary colors, the blue and orange looked silly together.

"My Skye," Pauline sniffed. "And the poor boy next to her! Ash! The poor thing looks so uncomfortable, in that tight white v-neck and baggy black shorts and that fishnet wrapped around him." She blew her nose loudly.

"I wish she would stand up straight and smile," Gael said softly. "The two will never get sponsors if they don't have any confidence in themselves."

Pauline buried her face in her husband's neck.

* * *

><p>"Ash! Ash, Ash, Ashy, Ash. My son! My only son!"<p>

Bella wailed in front of the TV, wrapped in blankets and tissues. Her two daughters, Fay and Jessa, watched from the doorway, unsure what to do.

"Look at him and Skye! They're going to get slaughtered!"

Fay burst into tears at this. Jessa wrapped her arms around her younger sister, trying not to look at her little brother on the television screen. "Mum, you're scaring Fay."

Bella mopped at her face with a wad of tissues, backing away from the screen. "My son...my son..."

"Don't talk about him like he's already dead," Jessa complained.

"He's been sentenced to death by the Capitol!"

"You don't know that!" Jessa shouted. Quieting down, she added, "There is a bright side to this. Ash is strong. He has a chance. They all have a chance."

* * *

><p>"Where's Natalia?" Raymond asked curiously, staring intently at the screen.<p>

"Right there," Shaun said, pointing at the two white-onesie-clad tributes on the sixth chariot."

"You silly goose," Raymond chuckled. "That's not Natalia! I think I'd known my own sister."

Shaun narrowed his eyes at the screen, staring hard. "It's definitely her. She and Darryl are just wearing lots of make-up.

Raymond didn't look convinced, but he didn't press the issue. The two watched the screen as their unrecognizable family member was pulled after the tributes of five Districts before them.

"When's Natalia coming home?" Raymond asked.

"Ray..." Shaun said quietly. "You're twelve."

"Yeah?"

"Don't you underst—?"

Raymond smiled obliviously at his father.

* * *

><p>"Craig, Seth!"<p>

Spencer and Phillip sat in front of the television, ready to watch their little brother. Their other two brothers had been off in their room for the previous tributes, but they weren't going to miss Darryl's big moment.

The four of them watched as Darryl appeared wearing a stark white onesie. His face bore so much make-up that he was unrecognizable.

"Look at all that make-up!" Spencer exclaimed, applauding. "I'll never let him live this down when he gets home.

Phillip looked uncomfortable. "You shouldn't act so sure of him coming home in front of Craig," he murmured in his brother's ear.

"Please!" Spencer laughed. "It's always been the five of us. Darryl has the strength of all of us with him. He's going to win."

"Testify!" Craig crowed happily. Phillip sighed, dropping his head into his hands.

* * *

><p>"Mommy?" Ann Marie asked, toddling up to her mother, who was sitting on the couch. "When's Constance coming home?" She gave a big, hopeful smile.<p>

"Go away."

Ann Marie stared at her mother for a few minutes before bursting into tears. Her father, Daniel, raced over and scooped her up, cradling her in his arms.

"Rosie, I know losing Constance is hard, but we have three other daughters to think about."

"They're not my problem. They've never been my problem."

Her husband sighed, kissing Ann Marie on the forehead and sending her off in the direction of one of her sisters, Sarah. "Constance did do a lot of the work when it came to caring for Janice, Sarah, and Ann Marie. That was unfair. Rosie, we are the parents here."

"Go away."

Daniel sighed, sitting down beside his wife on the couch. Janice sat on the floor, arms crossed and watching the screen with a haughty expression. Sarah and Ann Marie played in the corner.

"She's fat," Rosie spat as Constance's chariot came into view.

"Rosie!"

"She is," Janice chimed in. "Those gray clothes look terrible on her, especially with that stupid green stripe around her stomach. At least Craig looks hot in it."

Daniel sighed. The Games were tearing his family apart.

* * *

><p>"Wren in a dress! I cannot believe I'm watching this!"<p>

Jacob got to his feet and applauded furiously. Scott shot him a look that sent him straight back to the couch.

"C'mon, Dad," Jacob pushed. "Wren! In a _dress!_ And not even a pretty one." The dress was white, covered in evenly-spaced, horizontal blue lines. She held a giant pencil like a spear as an accessory. "This is too good."

"Your damn sister is going to die."

Jacob glared at his father. "Wren is a smart kid. My bets are on her."

"In denial," Scott said decisively, watching his daughter on the grainy television screen. "She isn't coming back. She's just a stupid little girl."

"What the actual fuck," Jacob spat, not looking at his father. "Wren is one of the only tributes who has a shot at this. She's your daughter. Show some pride."

Scott didn't say another word.

* * *

><p>"Our little Apollo," Meanne murmured. "He looks so dashing."<p>

She gazed at the screen. Her son was clothed in tight brown jeans, a similarly fitted brown t-shirt, and brown sneakers. He looked far better than his District partner, who was dressed in her ridiculous paper-patterned dress.

Leo smiled at his wife, their six-year-old daughter, Ana, in his lap. Kaylee sat between them, her stuffed animal cat in her lap.

"I wish I'd known him longer...spent more time with him..." Meanne sighed, biting her lip.

"Don't talk like that," Leo said softly. "He could come home."

Meanne sniffled, wiping her eyes with her hand. Leo leaned across Kaylee and kissed his wife, who gave a weak smile.

"Yeah...he could..."

* * *

><p>Claire and Abraham Maru sat next to each other on the couch, both silent. They'd hardly said a word to each other since their only child, Faith, had left. In fact, one of the only things that had been said was that Claire wished Faith had "used her given name, not her miscreant label, 'Newt.'"<p>

"Here she comes," Claire observed in a monotone. Two pale gray mares pulled the District 8 carriage into view. Newt stood motionless, looking altogether uncomfortable in a dress made up of squares of different types of fabric. Her District partner, Zephyr, wore a gray factor jumpsuit over a bright orange t-shirt.

"You reckon she comes home?" Abraham asked softly.

"It's too soon to place my bets. She might die in the bloodbath. She might be home in a week. We'll see."

And in a rare gesture of affection, Claire reached for the hand of her husband.

* * *

><p>"Next."<p>

Gael and his wife had been counting down the Districts to when their own son would appear on the screen. Ebony leaned into her husband, anticipating the worst. A suit made of wheat. Underwear made of wheat. A cosplay of a factory.

Ebony shrieked as her son appeared on screen. "He's in a _banana suit!" _she yelled. "How is he ever going to get sponsors? We're not even agriculture! We're grain! Those idiots in the Capitol! I swear—"

Gael put his arm around his wife, pulling her close to him. "Chester's smart. He'll get a good training score and get sponsors that way."

"Please," Ebony scoffed, sighing. "At least Thea looks nice. The District theme is still all wrong, but a dress patterned like a can of food is a nice idea—even a fashion statement—"

She broke off as Gael pecked her on the lips.

"It'll be okay."

* * *

><p>"I don't want to watch."<p>

"Aphrodite, she's your sister!"

"She isn't even pretty!"

"What does that have to do with it?"

Aphrodite huffed, turning away from her mother. She stalked over to the corner of the room and sat down, begrudgingly facing the television.

"Persephone! Thea's about to ride into the arena!"

Despite being the twin of Aphrodite, Persephone was nothing like her sister in personality. She skipped down the hall and sat down between her parents, a bright smile on her face. "I bet they did her up real pretty," she said, her voice wispy and light.

Connie nodded, smiling at her daughter. The four watched as Thea's chariot came into view. She wore a strapless dress that fell to her mid-thigh. It was printed like a can of pineapples, a delicacy the family had only ever read about.

"That's strange. You would think that the Capitol would know the industries of their own Districts," Michael remarked.

"I don't care," Persephone sang. "Thea looks pretty. She'll get lots of sponsors and come home."

The uncomfortable shift in the room was almost tangible.

* * *

><p>Luca burst out laughing at the sight of <em>October Tyne<em> in a dress sewn out of feathers. "She looks like a laughingstock next to Marshall! Haha, get it? A laughing_stock_?"

Phil glared at his son. "October has no family and needs as much support from us as Marshall does."

Their son stood next to October, dressed in farmer's overalls and a red plaid lumberjack shirt. He wore a dazzling smile, and one Capitol woman even threw a rose at him. His mother, Holly, grinned at this. "He'll get sponsors for sure. Such a handsome boy."

"I'm handsome!" Luca protested. His older sister, Louise, shot him a look and he quickly wiped the smile off his face.

Marshall turned to the unsmiling October on the screen and flashed her an even wider grin. This caused her to scowl, and he laughed. He took her hands despite her struggle and pulled her into a hug. October smirked and patted him on the back. The crowd went absolutely wild.

* * *

><p>Tessa stood tall next to Levi. Her red hair was curled and fell gracefully to the top of her strapless dark green dress. The dress was printed with abstract apples. A hat in the shape of the crown of an apple sat atop her scarlet curls.<p>

Yvonne smiled at the television screen. "I have such a pretty daughter," she said absently.

She turned her attention to Levi. He was dressed in a shirt that looked to be made of the same material as a basket. He wore jeans, with leather shoes on his feet.

_I wonder what his story is. Where's his family?_

The mother sighed. She smiled at her daughter, though she could not see her. Tessa waved at the crowd, her white teeth peeking out from between glossy pink lips.

_Come home..._

* * *

><p>"Anastasia, you get down here!" Nicholas shouted, exasperated.<p>

"Yeah, Anastasia!" Stephanie chimed in, her hands on her hips.

"Daddy!" Mahogany whined. "I'm tired!"

Nicholas threw his hands up in the air. "Everyone go sit in front of the TV right now and watch Willow!"

Mahogany burst into tears.

Stephanie quietly led her little sister towards the TV. Anastasia hopped down the stairs and joined the two. Nicholas stood behind them, scowling.

Willow and her District partner were dressed identically in tight white v-necks and baggy white pants that were coated in coal dust. Cedar looked vaguely like he was flexing, and Anastasia laughed at this. Willow smiled sweetly. One could almost see the halo hovering above her head.

"Is Willow coming home soon?" Mahogany asked quietly, her voice still holding an essence of the tears she had shed earlier.

Nicholas didn't say a word.

* * *

><p>"Bahaha, look at the idiot!"<p>

Oak and Hawthorn sat watching their dinky television, laughing at their brother, dressed in white and accessorized with coal dust.

"What's your bet?" Oak asked.

"Dead second night."

"I say third."

"Shake?"

"Done."

The two burst into fresh peals of laughter. "Do you reckon he'll get sponsors?" Hawthorn asked.

"You've got be joking. Look at his baby fat. He's twelve, damn it!"

"_This_ is quality television."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Since I wrote the plans for this fic, the official industries for the unknown Districts have been revealed. I am disregarding this and still using technology for District 5 and medicine for District 6 (and I kind of made District 9 and 11 the same thing), because I hate thinking of chariot outfits and I'm not going to do it over. XD This chapter was a little different, so a little more emphasis on the fact that reviews are always appreciated~ :)<strong>


	11. We Train to Lose

"The goal of training is to train, not to make friends."

Indiana cast a hard look at Tessa as she said this. The redhead was a good foot taller than the District 11 mentor, but she still shrank a bit at the words of the short, scarred woman. Levi snorted, his gray eyes dark.

He'd grown up with Tessa. They were both eighteen. Levi had a preconceived idea about the girl from what he had seen at school, and his distaste for her was only growing. Tall and slim, she was too delicate for the Games. She appeared guarded around people she didn't know, sure, but Levi had seen her around people she loved, trusted.

Friendly. Sweet. Loving.

She'd be a bloodbath tribute.

The fact that Tessa was taller than him burned his dislike brighter. He hated having to look up at her, hated that she could see his every move from a birds-eye view. She was his opposite, tall and friendly, redheaded with brown eyes and a mother.

_I wonder what it's like to be missed._

An instant after this thought crossed into his head, Levi responded. He focused his mind on the day of training ahead of him, his hatred for Tessa, his dislike for the Capitol, anything that could push this one little thought out of his mind.

Pushed to the twaddle in the corner of his mind, he focused on what he was wearing. His stylists—another two people he couldn't stand—had clearly coordinated with Tessa's. They were dressed as opposites. Levi wore dark denim jeans with a simple green t-shirt while Tessa sported skinny green pants and a dark blue shirt. Why they chose to go for this angle, Levi couldn't guess. They were creating a rift between the two.

_Well, good. No one's expecting me to be her goddamn ally._

"Now, your performance last night was less than ideal. Tessa, you looked far too untrusting and dark to gain any love from the crowd. Levi, you were the same way. Neither of you managed to smile even once. You need to focus on your training so you can gain some sponsors out of that mess."

As Tanzanite led the two tributes away from Indiana, Levi calculated the most efficient method of killing her out of the things he had access to on their floor of the training center. Brute strength won out in the end against smashing dishes into her head, hurling large blunt objects at her, and smothering.

The elevator carried them down, down, down past the lobby into the vast training area below where the tributes slept. Tanzanite led them over to a table where an avox pinned a square of cloth with the number eleven printed on it to the back of his shirt. A quick head count showed that Levi and Tessa were some of the last to arrive. The District 1 girl was missing, among others.

Levi ambled over to the gaggle of tributes crowded around yet another Capitolian, this one with maroon hair and creamy gold irises. The boy from District 11 cursed silently as he took in his competition. Most of the guys were tall, muscular brutes. Some were shorter and weaker, but they were just kids. Even a few of the girls looks like they could take Levi in a fight. His blood boiled hot with the anticipation to start training.

"Are we all here?" the man with maroon hair asked. A timid-looking boy standing next to him shook his head, though it was difficult to spot the action with the rest of his limbs shaking so hard.

A disturbance by the entryway caught the attention of the group.

"This outfit is _hideous_. I refuse! What are you doing? Ow! Oh, you're _sorry_? You just stuck a pin in me, you useless avox."

Conner's skin turned a deep red and he studied his feet as his District partner made her loud entrance. Their escort, a woman with bright red hair and dark green eyes, sighed deeply. "Ciara, _you are a tribute_. You will _do as we tell you_. Any resistance now will only kill you faster in the arena."

Her words dropped like bombs.

It's always been obvious that the Gamemakers play favorites. They kill some tributes with intent, and it was always assumed that behavior before the Games played a role in this. But an escort actually _acknowledging _this?

Ciara narrowed her eyes and strutted over to the rest of the tributes, putting a hand on her hip and sighing. The golden-eyed man cleared his throat and then began prattling off the stations in the training center. He warned the tributes that they were forbidden to spar with each other and that there were assistants available for this purpose. Levi rolled his eyes.

When they were cut loose, Levi strolled over to an array of knives standing opposite a target. He picked up a short dagger and twirled it in his fingers, smirking slightly. Positioning himself, he pulled back his arm, building tension before unleashing the weapon. It slid through the target as if it were butter, landing near the center. The avox standing nearby hurried over and yanked the dagger from the target. Levi chuckled at his struggle.

Another knife found its way into his hands and Levi took aim, sinking it dead center. The avox paled, again retrieving the weapon from the target.

Again and again, Levi took swift aim at the target. Again and again, he punctured the center. He missed by a few inches once or twice, but it didn't bother him. The success was exhilarating. It was empowering. It was—

A stocky boy slammed into him. The knife left his fingers, flying way off course and hitting the floor, skating along before screeching to a stop. Levi jumped up, eyes glinting with anger. The number 12 was pinned to the back of his attacker. Levi couldn't help but smile.

This kid was _twelve_.

"What the hell, kiddo?"

"Don't _call me that_!"

Levi snorted. "What do you want?"

"Give someone else a turn, assface."

"Watch your back, kid. There's a monster under the knife table."

The boy turned an amusing shade of garnet. He launched himself at Levi for a second time, but the older boy side-stepped easily. "No fighting now. You might get a time out." Levi winked before walking away.

His smiled faded as he left the scene. A glimmer of what may have been pity twitched inside of him, but he ignored it. Yeah, the twelve-year-old was going to die.

So was he.

Levi picked up a guide to poisonous plants, but he didn't see the words on the pages that he thumbed through. He was going to die. Sure, he could throw knives alright, but ultimately, he was going to die. These kids were big and strong. In the end, that would win out over intelligence.

_I wonder what the repercussions would be if I stabbed myself today. I've got no family they can hurt. No friends. I'm all alone and on death row._

He glanced back over at Cedar. He was now striking up a conversation—or maybe an argument—with the girl from District 10.

Realization flickered across his face.

* * *

><p>The second day of training wasn't any better than the first.<p>

On the first day Willow had spent her time studying up on survival and plants. She figured she ought to educate herself as much as possible, because knowledge was the only way she was going to get out of this, aside from alliances.

She could never kill someone.

Lunch was the only event yesterday that had brought some light in under the crushing weight of her painfully obvious death sentence. She'd sat with the redheaded boy from District 9. She had been sitting by herself, the "12" on her back feeling like a label, like a ticket number. Get in line, your death is approaching.

Chester sat with her, his yellow shirt looking rather humorous with his red hair. When Willow made a passing comment about his banana costume she was worried he would leave, but he just smiled and laughed. He had a nice laugh. He was intelligent enough. Willow noticed later in the day that he had been spending his day like she had: studying up.

"So why haven't you done any weapon training?" Willow asked as they ate midway through their second day of training.

He ducked his head, his pale skin earning a pink hue. Willow swallowed her smile. "I don't think I'll be able to kill someone. Maybe if I really, _really_ had to, but not for something like this."

Willow nodded slowly, her eyes downcast. The two sat in silence for the remainder of the break. Afterwards, Willow got up to go to the camouflage station. Next to knowledge, it was her best shot. She watched Chester as he began shakily throwing knives. He was alright, at least managing to hit the circular target. If his hands would stop shaking he could develop into a good shot.

She sighed and looked to the instructor, who began to talk about sunlight and shading and natural paints. Willow began to paint swirls and spots with her fingers, attempting to re-create a picture of the base of a thicket of ferns. She couldn't get the shadows right. All of a sudden, a hand reached over her shoulder and swept a clean dark line across the palette, creating the effect she'd been struggling with. She turned her head to see Chester standing there, a little smile on his lips.

"Thanks," Willow said with a smile of her own.

Chester sat down beside her. He was a year younger than her, but Willow was shocked by how much she _liked_ him. She'd never had time for friends or for crushes. Her whole life had been devoted to caring for her sisters, and now her life was nearly over…

Her sisters.

Anastasia, Stephanie, and Mahogany. They had been her whole life. Her father had never had the drive to care for them. Willow was the oldest, so she did her best to raise them. She loved them. How were they holding up? If she died…

"Willow? Willow?"

She shook her head, sitting up straight. "Sorry, I spaced out."

"You sure you're okay?" Chester asked, his green eyes swimming with worry. Ignoring the butterflies in her stomach, Willow nodded.

"I just got…caught up in my thoughts…"

The comforting hand on her back is what sent her over. Willow curled into him, tears rolling down her face. She kept her sobs silent so she wouldn't draw the attention of the other tributes as she wept.

_Weak_.

No one had ever comforted her like this before. She was always the one mopping up the tears. She was the one who did the hugging and the patting and the soothing. She always had to lock away her feelings and put on a brave face for her sisters. Something about being on the receiving end of the action called forth all the emotions she had suppressed for years.

"It's okay," Chester smiled, patting her again. She sat up, wiping her eyes.

"Sorry," she sniffled. "I'm a mess."

Chester's face broke into a wider grin. "I get it," he promised. "Frankly, I'm shocked that more people don't cry. Well, maybe they do, but not in public. This whole scheme is awful. But I'll be here for you. If you want me," he added.

"Are you asking me to be your ally?"

"If you're okay with it," Chester said quickly.

Willow curved her lips into a weak smile. "I am. Thank you."

**AN: Remember that reviews are always appreciated. I see hit numbers dwindle with each chapter, so if you choose to stop reading, drop me a note saying why so I know how I can improve. ^.^**


	12. Pretty Devil

Day three of training. _Yawn_.

Ciara Westbrook sat against the wall of the training center, knees pulled up to her chest as she inspected her nails. Her stylists had had a hard time not giving in to the temptation to paint her nails a vibrant, wild color like she wanted. They were instructed to go simple, which was a bore both for Ciara and for them.

Musi and Verte were the best people Ciara had met so far. They were _fun_, and they actually cared about how Ciara looked. They weren't boring like Conner, rude like Taz, and they didn't bitch at her all the time like Alexandrite. She liked talking to them because they shared a common interest: being beautiful.

When Conner let slip at dinner last night that Ciara had done almost nothing during training, Taz was livid. If her job wasn't to keep Ciara alive, she probably would've killed her. She went on and on about how Ciara wouldn't last a day in the arena and how her attitude was only killing her faster and blah, blah, whatever, whatever.

_Just because I'm pretty doesn't mean I'm helpless._

Ciara watched as a tall, muscular guy with the number "8" pinned to his back picked up a bow and arrow and began to fire arrows at a target. He stood a few meters from her, the wall she was sitting against being perpendicular to the one he repeatedly took aim at. His hair was short and dark brown, with a slight fluff to it. His eyes were intense and deep green. Ciara's lips curled into a smile.

Getting to her feet, she sauntered over to the table on which lay an array of bows. She selected purely based on how pretty it was and picked up a bin of arrows, carrying it over to the target next to Zephyr's. She watched him shoot a few more before loading an arrow, pulling back the string, and releasing the tension. The arrow whizzed through the air, barely striking the target. She glanced over at Zephyr to see him smirking.

_Good. I have his attention_.

Pulling back her arm again, she took better aim, this time hitting closer to the center. She didn't look at Zephyr, instead letting a small smile play on her lips. The third arrow again hit middle ground, as did the fourth. The fifth arrow, however, hit dead center. This time Ciara allowed herself to look at Zephyr. Assuming she was reading him right, he was impressed.

_As I said; not helpless._

Setting her bow down, Ciara walked up to Zephyr. The boy smirked. "Got some flair, District 1."

"Ciara," she corrected lightly.

"I heard a rumor that some of the kids from non-career Districts are planning a career pack. Most of the kids from the traditional three don't seem to have it in them. Got any tricks up your sleeve?"

"Just this one," Ciara murmured, leaning into Zephyr. He stepped back.

"I'm not looking for an alliance. Or a romance," he said tersely.

Ciara pouted her lips, her eyes darkening. She took a bold step forward and grabbed the neck of his shirt. Caught off guard, Zephyr was pulled forward by the girl. "You will regret having said that when I kill you," she breathed into his ear before releasing him.

"Fat chance, slut."

Narrowing her eyes, Ciara spoke very slowly and clearly. "You will not win these Games."

"And you will?"

_Play confident, but not too confident. _"We'll have to see, won't we?" she asked smugly.

Blowing a kiss, Ciara spun on her heel and stalked off. _Oh, who needs a plain old hot guy from a loser District? I can have anyone I want when I win these stupid Games. Guys trip over themselves for victors back home. I'm _gorgeous_. Why toy with some guy I'll have to kill later, anyway?_

Pleased with this train of thought, Ciara added a little skip to her next step. She had this all in the bag. Her archery would get her a decent training score, and that combined with her looks, her home District, and her performance at the chariot rides would guarantee her enough sponsors to keep her alive when all else failed. _But let's face it. I can't fail. I'll only be made stronger._

Smashing into a large, fleshy force yanked Ciara from her egotistical fantasies. She brushed herself off, looking up to see the overweight girl from District 6 starting at her. The girl wore a mortified expression, which for some reason made Ciara chuckle.

"W-what's so funny?" the girl—Constance—asked quietly, her voice shaking.

"Your face, that's what," Ciara laughed. "Oh, God, why do you even try? You realize you're going to be a bloodbath, right?"

"N-no," Constance stuttered, lifting her head and looking up into Ciara's dark brown eyes. The District 1 tribute broke into further peals of laughter.

"How fast can you run? Faster than a speeding arrow? A hurled spear? An expertly wielded sword?"

"Fast enough," she whispered.

Ciara threw back her head, positively _cackling_ at this point. "Good luck. Maybe whoever kills you can use your dead body for warmth."

Constance bit her lip, very obviously fighting tears. "I get it! You're skinny and perfect. _Good for you!_"

"It is good, isn't it?" Ciara smirked.

Glancing at the clock as she walked away, Ciara sighed. She still had a while to kill before lunch and then the training sessions. She would be second, so at least she'd have plenty of time afterwards to start getting ready for her interview. There was a day and a half standing between her and the arena. She felt calm. It was almost strange, really. Her whole life she'd been free of responsibility. She did whatever she wanted when she wanted. It was odd to be told what to do. Even more odd was that she was facing the biggest moment in her life, the time that would change her life forever.

And all she felt was calm.

* * *

><p>Thane drummed his fingers on the table, his leg bouncing up and down rapidly. He wanted to stop it, but it seemed to have a mind of its own. Tessa smiled at him from across the table, reaching for his hand. The drumming stopped, but his leg didn't cease to twitch.<p>

"Don't worry, Thane," Tessa soothed. "You'll be fine. Eat."

"I don't feel like it."

"You don't have many days left where you can eat freely. You've got to."

He knew she was right. Pulling his hand free, he began to eat. Tessa nodded her approval. Thane's leg was still shaking persistently.

The two hadn't really discussed being in an alliance together, but they both knew it was a given. Thane knew it was stupid to fall in love—in fact he wasn't sure if it was love or desperation—just before he was going to be killed, but being close to Tessa helped. With what? He wasn't sure. He felt lighter around her. Better. They hadn't even kissed.

Thane wasn't sure if they ever would.

He'd known her only a couple days. What if one of them died in the bloodbath? The whole relationship was silly, but he wasn't going to end it. He needed someone there for him now, whether or not she was there in a day and a half.

"You're next," Tessa observed.

Looking around, Thane noticed that Conner, Ciara, and Anja were all gone from the room. He bit his lip, staring down at the table. Tessa lifted his chin towards her, taking his hand. "You'll be fine. You can throw spears. You're smart. They'll give you a good score. Even if they don't, it won't matter much."

"But it will matter…"

"Just calm down and everything will work out," she said quietly.

"Thane Absolum!" a voice summoned.

Before he got up, Tessa pecked him on the lips. He smiled, half at her and half at himself, before entering the Gamemakers' room with butterflies in his stomach.

Not daring to look at the assembly of Gamemakers, Thane hurried over to a bucket of spears and began to hurl them at targets stationed all around the room. All he could think was, _these people will be responsible for my death, these people will be responsible for my death._

He first pegged the target meant for the spears straight through the center. He then aimed for one a few stations over, again hitting dead center. He pivoted and faced the target farthest away from him, summoning up his strength and launching the spear at it. It wasn't a direct hit, but he managed to get one of the inner rings. That was alright. He threw until the bucket was empty and his arm was sore, consistently hitting right on or almost on the mark.

Still keeping his eyes averted from the Gamemakers, Thane headed over to a table covered in an array of plants and berries. He swiftly sorted them into edible and inedible, poisonous and non-toxic.

It was then that he was spoken to.

"If you are so sure, eat them."

Thane turned to face a man with a shocking turquoise mohawk. His eyes were silver and flecked with different shades of blue. He was unnaturally tall and skinny—even more so than Thane. His eyes were devoid of light and held a dark challenge.

Blinking, Thane turned back to his plants. The Gamemaker wouldn't ask him to eat the non-toxic pile if they were unsafe, would he?

_They have more advanced medicine here. They could fix me up in a flash._

He was sure of his choices. He thought of Tessa and bit the inside of his lip hard, determination set on his face. He couldn't show any weakness. One by one, he ate the plants he had deemed edible until they were all gone. When he swallowed the last one, another Gamemaker spoke.

She had a shocking pink buzz cut and a large golden nose ring. She was so small she could turn sideways and disappear. She looked to be drowning in the Gamemaker robes. Her eyes were perfect magenta orbs. They were the kind of eyes you would expect to be full of life and emotion, but just like the other man, they were calm and dark.

"You may go."

Her voice was girlish and high, and Thane had to fight not to grin. It was important that these people liked him or he'd get obliterated in the arena before he could even blink. He merely nodded once, turning and walking away from the vegetation that still remained.

Thane slipped out the exit and headed towards the temporary home of him, Anja, Sage, and Morganite, where he had been instructed to go for interview prep. As he left, he couldn't help but let a small smile take to his face. He had taken the challenge and destroyed it. He had stayed calm and it all turned out well in the end.

He made a mental note to thank Tessa the next time he saw her.

**AN: Let it be noted that Ciara's views do not represent my own, so obviously no offence was intended. As always, reviews never cease to be appreciated~**


	13. Make or Break

Rose was majorly stressing these interviews, and it was _annoying_.

"I'm already hot. What more do I need?" Acton asked in bored tone as Rose droned _on and on_ about the importance of how he played the interview in relation to sponsors and whatever.

His mentor narrowed her eyes, which caused Acton to grin. He quickly wiped the smile off his face and tried to put on a straight face. He held it for three seconds before smirking. "Sorry, sorry!" he laughed as Rose huffed and got to her feet, proclaiming him as hopeless.

The woman turned around, fixing her dark green eyes on him. "The interviews are extremely important. Yes, the Capitol has a sense of your looks now. You somehow managed to pull an eight in training, and I won't dare to ask how—"

Acton smiled to himself at this. Sure, he was fairly skilled with a sword, and he probably could've managed the average five that non-Career tributes tend to get, but he had worked a little magic of his own. He'd quickly deduced that the woman with the pink buzz cut and the nose ring was the head Gamemaker. She was pretty enough to make his job easy. He had her wrapped around his finger in a matter of minutes and kissed her on his way out.

Her magenta eyes, devoid of emotion when he came in, sparkled with lust as he left.

He'd heard plenty of stories about victors having to sell their bodies and how horrible it was, but honestly, you got paid to get laid. What the hell was the problem with that? And now he had a shiny score that would get him sponsors and all he had to do was kiss a pretty girl.

"—but up until now they haven't had a chance to get to know your _personality_. We need to match you to the image they've created of you so they fall a little harder for your, uh, charms."

Acton raised his eyebrows, which caused Rose to blush for a moment before she composed herself. "They see you as a, uh, womanizer," she said putting air quotes around the word. "We need to work that angle. The Capitol women will fall for you and want to keep you alive so long as we keep you sexy and charming."

"I can do that," Acton nodded, putting his feet up on the coffee table and stretching. "You should probably work with Yuki. Her stylists can doll her up, sure, but it'll need a miracle to make her likeable by any stretch."

"She got a ten in training. The public sees her as aloof, intelligent, and formidable. They can see that she will do well in the arena. We decided last night to keep up that angle."

"Angle? That's just her personality."

"As is yours," Rose pointed out coolly. "Now, we need to talk about the importance of body language."

Acton grinned, wiggling his eyebrows again. He chuckled as he observed Rose try very hard to keep a straight face. The strict woman stood no chance up against him. It was clear to both of them that the lively woman who conducted the interviews would be the same.

"Posture is tricky and very important," the mentor continued seriously. "You need to stand straight enough for people to see that you are bold and confident, but not so straight that you come across as cocky. That tends to be a turn-off, and that won't help us."

Acton sighed. "Look, Rose," he began, throwing in a simpering smile and watching her amusing reaction. "We both know how you've been through this whole session. It's obvious that the Capitol women will react the same way to the person that I am. I don't need training."

"I am not a Capitol woman!" Rose exclaimed hotly.

"Exactly. You're uptight and strict and your job is to train me to win, not to pay others to help me win. If I can get through to you, a crowd of vapid women with weird haircuts will be no problem."

Sighing, Rose nodded. "You're right." She checked her watch, mentally calculating the time until the interviews. "Xennon and Darling will need you to look perfect to maximize the effect, so you'd better go see them now. Rhodochrosite!"

The bubbly escort bounded into the room, pink zebra hair swishing back and forth. "Yes?"

"Send Yuki in."

Rhodochrosite nodded happily. Rose smirked as she left. "Yeah, her type will be easy to seduce."

With a smile, Acton entered the elevator and quickly found himself in a brightly colored room with his two stylists grinning widely at him. The two were so brainless about anything other than fashion that it almost _hurt_ to be in the same room as them. Sure, Acton wasn't the sharpest sword in the cornucopia, but he looked like a Gamemaker compared to those two dunces.

"What angle did you and Rose decide on?" Xennon asked loudly, dressed in his trademark tight silver clothes. He ran a hand through his bright silver hair, blinking his silver eyes. Acton had to look away from him every few minutes or else he would start to see spots.

"Sexy, charming womanizer, of course," Acton laughed. Darling let out a girlish giggle, her big green eyes alight with laughter. _God, they are adorable._

"So we're going for sexy without seeming like an asshole, I take it?" Xennon inquired.

Acton nodded. He certainly wasn't envisioning himself walking onto the stage in dark jeans that hugged his legs, a deep V-neck, and a leather jacket. It'd be hot, sure, but he needed to be relatable. "Capitol fashion, not District."

The two nodded seriously, as though this outfit would single-handedly determine whether or not Acton lived or died. Xennon bustled off to get the clothes ready while Darling got straight to work on his make-up. Acton felt like he should be embarrassed by wearing foundation and concealer and whatever, but he looked damn attractive with it all on. He sat back in his chair. With actual make-up, a manicure, a pedicure, and waiting for Xennon, he'd be sitting a while. Darling tilted his head back into a basin and ran hot water over his hair. It was comforting, cozy…

An hour or so later, Xennon returned. Acton's hair had been shampooed, conditioned, and styled. His fingernails were all the exact same length, coated in a clear polish. His toenails were uniformly clipped. His face was utterly flawless, a shade or two darker than usual. Some highlighting here and there left his features enhanced but still manly.

_If I wasn't me, I would totally have sex with me. God, that sounds weird._

"The heart of the Capitol will melt the second you step on stage," Xennon said proudly, holding up an armful of clothes. "You'll be stealing the stage the whole night, not just during your interview. Now close your eyes, I want to see your face when you witness the whole ensemble."

Acton nodded, shutting his eyes. He felt rather silly as the two dressed him. His arms were slipped into something soft and cotton-y. Tight pants were tugged over his legs. Something light was placed on his head. After the two beat themselves up over tweaks and perfections, they finally led him over to what he presumed was the big mirror with the extensions that let you see yourself from all angles.

"Open your eyes!" Darling sang happily.

Blinking in the bright light, Acton focused in on his appearance. Xennon had done a perfect job. A collared button-down shirt hung open on his torso, displaying his pride and joy, his six pack. Dark skinny jeans hugged his legs. A heather gray fedora hat sat on his head, angled ever so slightly over the right side of his forehead. On his feet were white high-top shoes with pink and gray accents coupled with pink laces.

He was right up next to the line that Xennon had tipped over. He looked attractive but still masculine, the kind of guy girls would duel over. He had the interviews in the bag for sure.

"It's perfect," Acton grinned. "Just the angle we need."

Xennon glowed at the praise, and Darling leaned onto the flamboyant man's shoulder. "Come along, now. The interviews will be held shortly."

Acton allowed the two to lead him to his newest destination. They left him in a dank space he assumed was under the stage where the other tributes waited. A quick survey determined that Acton was definitely the best-dressed guy there. Guys were traditionally harder to dress than girls. There was no end to the things you could do with a dress or a skirt or a top or pants or whatever. The options were exponentially less for guys. They all looked similar, but Acton stood out.

_Perfect_.

From above Acton could hear the voice of the famous Livia Garnette welcoming the crowd to the 238th Hunger Games interviews. Livia had taken over a few years ago, so she was a fresh face with experience. She would also be making Acton's job much easier than if the interviews were still conducted by the man Livia had taken over for.

In a single file line, the twenty-four tributes trailed onto the stage and took their respective seats. Acton sat comfortably, not bothering to look like there was a stick up his ass like some of the other guys were doing. He relaxed, seeming to hardly notice the massive crowd before him. He instead focused his eyes on Livia.

Her hair was a periwinkle blue color. It was cut into a short, spiky 'do that was styled to look windswept. It worked very well, sticking out in several directions without looking like she'd just rolled out of bed. The pale blue strands faded to a much darker color about a half inch from the roots before transforming into black at her scalp. Her skin was a creamy pale color. She was short, a pixie-like creature with dainty, angular features.

She was dressed in a bold goldenrod-colored dress that held a shade of orange like the warm lights of a streetlamp. It was strapless, falling to her knees with a balloon skirt. She wore six-inch high heels that perfectly mirrored the color of her hair.

Her eyes were another spectacle on their own. They were the deep purple of the evening sky over a brightly lit city. The irises blended into the pupils, creating an eerie effect. Her eyes would be downright scary if it weren't for the flickers of pale gray that mottled the dark purple.

Acton wouldn't have to pretend to like her. She was gorgeous.

He rehearsed ideas in his head as the tributes before him were interviewed by the beautiful Livia. Ciara Westbrook was arrogant and sexy, smiling at the crowd and flipping her hair over her shoulder. She believed that she was going to win. Her training score had been a measly six, which was downright embarrassing for a tribute from District 1. To top it off, she was dressed like a total slut. She was practically naked in a strapless crimson dress that didn't even reach her knees with slits up both sides.

Her District partner was her polar opposite. He was very quiet, but he when he got the hang of his nerves he was quite hilarious. The crowd was in stitches, though not necessarily convinced that he would be Games material.

Anja was stunning. She wore a maroon dress dotted with variously sized rhinestones that twinkled under the lights of the stage. She wore make-up, but it wasn't too bold. Her hair, typically curly, had been flattened slightly and styled into an elegant bun. Her posture was perfect. She was calm yet bold, and by the end of her interview the entire stadium was hanging onto her every word.

Thane, the other tribute from District 2, also worked the crowd well. He'd scored a nine in training, which was right with the status quo for his District. He wore light brown slacks and was barefoot, as was turning out to be his trademark. A light green button-down shirt was tucked into his pants, the top two buttons undone. His hair was swept to the side. He came across as intelligent and fair. Not necessarily the killing type, but he would be formidable when it came to brains.

Yuki was next. To keep with the aloof and intelligent deal, she had been dressed modest and dark. A deep blue dress showed off her pale features and highlighted her dark, gray-blue eyes. It had thin spaghetti straps. The skirt fell to just above her knees before angling so that one side nearly swept the floor while the other just brushed her knee. Simple black heels were on her feet. Her black hair was left down, a silky curtain that cascaded down her shoulders. A dark blue ribbon decorated the plain hairstyle. She was curt with Livia, brutally honest and smart.

And then it was Acton's turn. Cheers rose up from the crowd as he stood, his outfit already doing its job. He sat down in the vacant chair beside Livia, rolling his shoulders once to loosen them. He smiled at her, and she ducked her head to hide that she was blushing.

"So, Acton. An eight in training is above average for your District, is it not?"

He nodded, willing her to continue.

"I know you can't tell us what went on, but could you give us a hint? Do you think you're going to be a force to be reckoned with in the arena?"

"I'm always a force to be reckoned with," Acton chuckled, winking at Livia. The crowd cheered again, and Acton smiled at them before turning back to his interviewer.

"The ladies of the Capitol—and in fact some of the men—are quite taken with you. Any comments?"

"I love that people have taken such interest in me. I've always believed that the victors are the bolder tributes that aren't afraid to put themselves out there."

"Is there a special girl back home that you're fighting for?"

Acton could practically hear Rose urging him on. He smiled to himself, looking down at the floor and then back up at Livia. He answered honestly. "I'm still looking for her, really."

The crowd went wild. He caught Yuki rolling her eyes, which widened his grin. Livia's pale face was flushed with color, and she fiddled with her index cards. The applause went on for a few minutes before the audience was finally ordered to quiet down.

_Well done_.

"The Capitol has been watching you with interest, and it was lovely to finally get a sense of who you really are, Acton."

"The pleasure was all mine."

And then, just for show, he kissed her on the cheek before sitting back down.

* * *

><p>Skye's hands were clasped tightly in her lap, her knuckles white. Nervous was a hideous understatement in regards to what she was feeling. The other tributes were brilliant. They all had angles, and they were gorgeous and perfect and the crowd loved them. She was following the best act so far: the 238th Games' resident womanizer, Acton Cuthburt.<p>

Her stylists, February and Wednesday, hadn't had an easy time dressing her for her interview. Her red hair complicated everything. They didn't want to clash. They had ruled out brown and black as main colors, the former because she had worn it at the reaping and the latter because they wanted her to appear light and innocent. They had eventually settled on a dress of a cream-beige color.

Sleeves connected to the neckline of the dress and fanned out to cover only her shoulders before thinning out again and melding into the back. The dress had a tight top with a skirt beginning at her belly button. The skirt consisted of multiple layers of ruffles that ended at her mid-thigh. A thick dark brown ribbon was wrapped around her stomach above the ruffles, tying in a floppy bow in the back. She wore soft brown flats on her feet.

The dress was pretty, yes, but it reminded her of a wedding dress.

Reminded her of a life she would never get to live.

Taking a deep breath, she got to her feet and glided over to the seat beside Livia. The woman smiled at her, a gesture that the girl from District 4 attempted to return. She sat down, smoothing the skirt of her dress and sitting up as straight as she could. She was supposed to go for an innocent angle. She'd be lucky to work in any angle.

She could feel every set of eyes that was trained on her. Here she sat before one of her biggest fears: crowds. Everyone was watching her. She wanted to melt, wanted to turn invisible, wanted to disappear, wanted to escape this nightmare.

"How are you feeling tonight, Skye?" Livia asked kindly.

Skye winced as though the woman had struck her. She drew in a deep breath. "Fine, you?" she asked quietly, staring at the floor.

"You'll have to speak up, dear."

"I'm fine," Skye said a little louder.

"That's lovely," Livia commented. "Now, you only got a four in training. Typically tributes from your District get at least an eight."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement. A cruel, taunting statement. Skye managed a nod, trying to keep her limbs from shaking. "That's right," she choked out.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes, yes," Skye answered quickly. _You're blowing it. Innocent is one thing. Shy as a mouse is another. No one will ever sponsor you. They're all thinking about how you're going to be a bloodbath tribute. You know it._

"What are your impressions of the Capitol so far?"

"There are so many different smells," Skye blurted out, her skin turning a shade of red. The crowd chuckled. "It's just—well, at home it tends to smell like fish and seawater. It's strange to be away from it."

Livia smiled. "Do you miss home?"

Skye nodded quietly. "A lot. I want to make it back."

"Do you think you will?"

Such a simple question. The answer was simple, too. The "no" was on the tip of her tongue, fighting to get out. But if she answered truthfully, it would only finalize her death sentence. Technically, she still stood a chance. The boy she had met on the train, Marshall Reed, had continued to talk to her. They planned to be allies. With him, she stood a chance.

"I have a chance. I want to see my parents again."

The crowd let out a collective "aw" at this. It was rather pathetic, really. She was fifteen, and the only thing she cared about was seeing her parents again. It was stupid and childish. They saw her as a little girl who missed her mommy and daddy. She was shy, timid, unable to survive.

"Thank you, Skye."

The redhead nodded, getting to her feet. A burst of courage had her curtsying to the crowd. A chorus of "aws" and applause met her ears, and she allowed herself a tiny smile at the Capitol.

Sitting back down, Skye found her mentor, 47, in the crowd. His face displayed no emotion, and Skye instantly felt that she had failed him. She had screwed up her angle, becoming a child in need of someone to care for her rather than an innocent yet independent young woman. Her nerves had gotten the best of her and now she was going to pay for it.

She didn't pay attention to most of the other interviews. When she did it only tightened the knots in her stomach. This one was funny, this one was smart, this one was witty, this one was intense, this one was a winner, this one was a fighter. They all had ideas, they had angles. They had personalities and the crowd loved them. Skye was quickly overshadowed, shoved into the corner and forgotten.

Marshall's interview was the only one she paid real attention to. She was worried that after her abysmal interview, he wouldn't want to be her ally anymore. Who would want to team up with someone so fragile, after all?

The sixteen-year-old boy from District 10 was dressed in a deep V-neck that matched his bright green eyes. Dark skinny jeans hid his legs, with simple green sneakers on his feet. His short blonde hair was puffed up, the kind of hair you wanted to run your hand through. The crowd adored him. He was friendly and smart, not to mention attractive.

"So, Marshall, do you have any allies for these Games?"

_Oh no. This is it_. Skye averted her eyes from Marshall, bracing herself for the worst. He was going to say no. He was going to be in the strongest group. She was going to be alone.

"Yes, as it happens," Marshall said confidently. "Skye and I plan to form an alliance in the arena."

A deep breath of relief slid from Skye as she heard these words. She sat up straighter, fixing her eyes back on the tall, muscular boy. Why he liked her, she had no idea. But she liked him, and if she was going to spend her last moments with anyone, he was definitely one of her top choices.

And the crowd loved it.

**AN: NaNoWriMo is almost upon us! Anyone else doing it? One more chapter should be going up before November. Reviews are always appreciated~**


	14. Last Words

Ciara lay in bed, disgruntled and wide awake. Taz had sent her to bed directly after dinner despite the fact that the sixteen-year-old girl from District 1 had wanted to watch the replays. Her mentor had also made her eat more than she would usually eat in a whole week at that one meal (though, to be fair, it wasn't like that was extraordinarily much). After complaining about feeling bloated and wanting to watch the replay of her interview, she finally went to her room. She took a long, warm shower, hoping it would make her sleepy, though it didn't. She slipped into a silky nightdress and lay down in bed, swaddled in blankets.

But the sleep refused to come.

She didn't dare to say that she was apprehensive. She had put up the image that she was anything but, and it was time to believe in that. She was supposed to be confident. Okay, so she didn't have an alliance. Whatever. She was going to win these Games. She could probably pick up a couple allies in the arena. Wrap a guy or two around her finger—it'd be easy.

Filling her mind with these images, she let herself think of nothing but her victory. Despite everything, she hated herself. She was a vain slut and she knew that. But she wasn't smart, so how else was she supposed to get guys? No one expected anything from her, and that hurt. She appeared so confident, so comfortable with herself, but she wasn't. No one knew her. They judged her without ever talking to her.

So she had to win. She had to prove that she wasn't just some whore looking for a one night stand. Ciara Westbrook was a real person, and these Games were going to show that to all of Panem.

* * *

><p>Thane was dreaming.<p>

He was in the arena. He stood on his plate, the seconds counting down until the Games would begin. He was trying to make eye contact with his ally, Tessa, but she wasn't paying attention. And suddenly, beside him stood his brother.

"Pretty girl, eh?" Lance said with a smile, referring to Tessa. "Smart, too. You have a good ally in her."

Thane was struck dumb. Five years ago, when Thane was thirteen and Lance was fifteen, his brother had been reaped. Thane had painfully vivid memories of those days. He and his parents sat shut up inside, watching the Games intensely for news on Lance. Having a family member in the Games wasn't a valid excuse to miss work or school, but the Absolum family didn't care.

He was in the career pack, being from District 2. Lance was always the more violent one of the two brothers, and the careers valued his brutality. It had hurt to see his brother rip innocent tributes to shreds. But it didn't affect him like it had affected his parents. They were heartbroken. Watching their fifteen-year-old son turn into a monster was torture for them. However, he didn't have much time to wreak havoc before he ate some poisonous berries and died a slow, painful death.

Thane had spent a very long time wondering if Lance would have survived if he were smarter, and an even longer time wondering if he even wanted his brother back.

"Listen," Lance said. "Don't be like me. You have brains, little bro. Use them. Mom and dad need you."

The loud ringing of the gong shattered the dream.

* * *

><p>It had taken some convincing for Acton to get Rose to let him watch the replay of his interview, but a promise to go to bed right afterwards got her to cave. He watched the interviews with interest, looking for things he may have missed during the actual event. But his ideas were basically spot on. Ciara Westbrook was still a stupid slut, Conner Doherty was still pathetic, Anja Nadezhda was still smoking hot, Thane Absolum was still super boring, Yuki Sakurai was still aloof, and he was still amazing. He had totally killed the interview. The cheers of the crowd rang in his ears.<p>

"Bed," Rose commanded once Skye appeared on the screen. Acton sighed, getting to his feet. "Don't you sigh at me. You've hardly got a chance in these Games as it is without adding fatigue to the list."

"Thank you for the inspiring pep talk," Acton retorted dryly.

"You could have been smart like Yuki and gone straight to bed after dinner."

"Boo." He stuck out his tongue.

His mentor shrugged and turned away from him. Acton made a face at her back before turning and going to his room. He glanced at the bathroom and shook his head. His stylists would make him shower in the morning, anyway, so there was no point in going through the trouble tonight. He stripped down to his boxers and then fell onto the bed. The thick sheets flew up around him and created a kind of nest for him to sleep in.

The longer he put off sleep, the more he began to be bothered by what Rose had said to him. She thought that he didn't have a chance in the Games. Who was she to say that? He'd gotten an eight in training! Sure, he got it by seducing the Gamemakers, but it wasn't like he was totally useless. He had muscle and he wasn't a total idiot. On top of it, he had Anja as an ally and he'd surely get plenty of sponsors out of his pre-game performances.

Acton Cuthburt was a name that all of Panem would know, and he would live to get out of the Arena and bask in his fame.

* * *

><p>Skye couldn't do anything to stop it.<p>

She had done a million things in the last couple hours in an attempt to get the impending games off of her mind, but nothing had worked. She had tried to fall asleep several times but the anxious knots in her stomach made that impossible.

It got to the point where the racing thoughts in her head made her nauseous. She riffled quickly through the room, her actions becoming increasingly panicked with every passing second. She eventually found what she was looking for: a pen and paper. She had to get her thoughts out before they drove her insane.

_I wonder what it's like to die_, she wrote. _Specifically, I wonder what it's like to die unexpectedly. I think it's different when you can see it coming. You can prepare. You can accept that you're going to die. But what about when you can't see it coming? When one minute you're fine and the next you're just…dead. You could be talking to someone. Laughing. _

_And then you feel a knife in your back, a bullet in your head, a spear in your chest. You'll panic, I'm sure. Maybe you'll live long enough to pass the panic stage. And then you'll lie there, bleeding, dying. And you'll wonder who, why, and how. Maybe someone will try to help you. To comfort you. But it won't work. You're already almost gone._

_But the worst is when you know you're going to die soon, but you don't know when or how. Everyone dies eventually, but most people assume it's somewhere far in the future. Not for me. My face could light up the sky above the arena tomorrow night. Or maybe I'll somehow emerge the victor._

…_I won't win._

_I'll be dead sometime in the next couple of weeks._

_Then I'll be nothing but a memory._

* * *

><p>Chester and Willow sat on the roof together. It was late and they both knew that they should be sleeping, but they weren't.<p>

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" he asked.

"What is?"

"The Capitol."

"Why would you say that?"

"Not the people in it," he explained. "Or I guess some of them might be. But their ideals and sense of right and wrong are all off. That's not what I meant, though. The city. It's beautiful. With all its colors and shining lights."

"Yeah. It's okay."

"It's fascinating. The technology. I just wish the circumstances were different."

Willow nodded. A silence fell over them and they watched the city. Both of them assumed that they'd never make it back alive. The Capitol was a cruel place. But it was beautiful.

"Chester?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't want to die."

He turned to look at her. She didn't look back, instead fixing her gaze on the horizon. He tentatively reached out a hand and turned her face towards his. He could see tears in her eyes, and she kept blinking so that they wouldn't fall.

"I'll protect you." She smiled. "I know it isn't much. But I'll try my best."

"Thank you," she said quietly.

And before the moment could pass, he kissed her.

* * *

><p>October lay in bed. Her eyes had long ago adjusted to the darkness. She stared at the ceiling. She couldn't figure out why she wasn't asleep. She didn't feel nervous. She wasn't scared.<p>

Perhaps it was pressure.

She had proven herself to be capable. She was a nobody from District 10, but she had managed to score a ten in training, which was high for a tribute from _any_ District. She'd also made her way into the strongest alliance. The career tributes this year had been, well, lacking in career traits, and it was strange to October that the most promising alliance in her eyes consisted of tributes from Districts 3, 10, 11, and 12.

All of Panem knew who she was now, which was just what she needed. That part had been simple. It was what was coming next that would be a challenge: namely, winning the Games.

See, October had known from a very young age that there was something wrong with Panem. Most kids caught on a year or two before their first Reaping, unless they had a sibling that was picked for the Games. But October had raised herself, and she had lacked the innocence that usually went hand in hand with childhood. When you're the only little girl without a mother or a father, you tend to develop a pessimistic outlook on life before the rest of your peers.

At age six, October had made a promise to herself that she would one day overthrow the Capitol.

Of course it was ridiculous. But now that October was in the Capitol, about to enter the Games, it all seemed much more tangible. The only thing that worried October now was the failure of the last big rebellion.

It was unfortunate, but October saw many similarities between herself and Katniss Everdeen. They were both young, strong girls from outlying Districts that had a fighting chance in their Games. Katniss' rebellion had ended in her public execution. The Districts quieted down after this. They had stayed quiet up until now, and October wanted to be the one to remind them that the rule of the Capitol was wrong.

All she needed was to be the victor.

* * *

><p>Levi was sitting on the window seat in his room, looking out at the twinkling lights of the Capitol. From his vantage point, he could just see where the lights stopped and the city ended.<p>

He had to wonder how the fishermen in District 4 were kept from sailing out to sea, away from Panem. In District 11, the fence kept the District closely confined. Levi had no clue if the District was landlocked by others or simply contained so that no one would find the ocean.

Most people assumed that Panem was the whole world, but Levi couldn't bring himself to believe that. There had to be more. But then that begged the question of why the rest of the world had done nothing to stop the horrors that occurred in Panem. Did they know? Where they worse?

The only way out of the Games was to win, and Levi wasn't quite sure he wanted that. He'd become conspicuous. He'd never be able to leave. It wasn't like there were great odds of him getting out, anyway, but becoming a victor would solidify the impossibility.

And so the question became would he rather die tomorrow or in decades? Would he rather cut his life short or endure the brutality of the Capitol into old age?

He'd see.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So I may have accidentally taken a super long hiatus.<strong>

**OH BUT LOOK A CHAPTER.**

**I've been really busy, but I'm going to do my best to update consistently. It shouldn't be too hard, since we're finally at the Games.**

**Reviews are always appreciated~**


	15. Sixty Seconds

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the 238th Hunger Games begin!"

_60_

Chester rose up into the arena in sync with the other twenty-three tributes. He wore the same outfit as the rest of the male tributes. A long-sleeved, gray turtle-neck made of a smooth, polyester material covered his torso. Over that he wore a black, hooded fleece vest. Insulated black sweatpants were tucked into black sheepskin boots that were lined in the soft fur of some animal.

_59_

_58_

Looking around, he felt grossly overdressed. The tributes were ringed around the golden cornucopia. It stood in a sunlit meadow that was surrounded by trees. The clothes already felt stuffy and hot. He unzipped his vest.

_57_

_56_

_55_

The cornucopia looked bigger than he had imagined. It was possible that the television had simply made it look smaller, but Chester felt like it was larger than it had been in previous years.

_54_

_53_

_52_

Situated at the mouth of the cornucopia were a number of supplies that also seemed different from normal. The packs were larger. There weapons weren't quite so plentiful. There were random parkas strewn around.

_51_

_50_

Chester made eye contact with Willow, who was just as confused. She shrugged. She jerked her head towards the pile of supplies as though to ask if Chester wanted any.

_49_

_48_

Looking around, Chester found Thea, Conner, and Apollo. They all seemed to be looking to him for instruction, which surprised him. Conner and Willow were both older than him, and Willow was more experienced in taking care of people thanks to her younger siblings.

_47_

_46_

_45_

_44_

To be honest, Chester wasn't sure if his alliance would make it out of the bloodbath alive unless they just ran. However, they'd also struggle to find supplies and they'd certainly be slaughtered without weapons the second they crossed the path of any other tributes.

_43_

_42_

And, in addition to that, he had a bad feeling about the clothes they were wearing. The stylists had to have a reason to dress them like this. They could do with some extra layers from the cornucopia if Chester was reading the signs correctly.

_41_

_40_

He looked back at Willow, who raised her eyebrows and cocked her head to the side in question. He jerked his head at the supplies and then nodded.

_39_

_38_

_37_

They'd each need a pack. By Chester's count, there were only fourteen in total, so it would be a stretch. They'd probably be able to share most of the supplies within them, but things like jackets and sleeping bags wouldn't share well.

_36_

Chester still had his doubts on whether or not all of them would survive the bloodbath. Willow's vicious District partner might target her or Conner simply because they were close by. Chester had his doubts about being near October and Levi. Apollo's District partner didn't exactly seem friendly.

_35_

_34_

_33_

_32_

The odds weren't in their favor.

_31_

_30_

They especially weren't in Chester's favor. He didn't have strength. He probably wouldn't be able to kill anyone even if the opportunity arose. He was weak.

_29_

Sure, he was smart. But when it came down to wits versus weapons, he didn't see himself coming out on top.

_28_

_27_

There were just under thirty seconds until the gong would ring and the Games would officially begin. Chester's heart began to race as the reality of it all washed over him. He clenched his fists, which were sweaty with the heat that his clothes were locking in. He noticed that a couple of tributes had slipped off their vests. He didn't think this was wise, and he was relieved to notice that no one from his alliance had done so.

_26_

_25_

_24_

_23_

_22_

Chester breathed deeply. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to remember his short time in the training center. They'd need food, and Chester wasn't willing to rely on the hope that the packs could contain it. This was, of course, assuming that they would survive.

_21_

_20_

_19_

Concentrating, Chester did his best to tune out the countdown and focused on his environment. He could hear birds chirping, which was a plus. So long as they weren't poisonous, they'd be a good food source. If he could catch them…

_18_

_17_

_16_

Chester looked up to see that his alliance was still watching him, looking increasingly more anxious. He stared blankly at Willow until he realized they might be looking for clearer instructions. He mouthed the word "pack" and Willow nodded. He then jerked his head to the left to indicate where they were going to run, and Willow nodded a second time.

_15_

_14_

_13_

_12_

_11_

Chester glanced at Thea, Conner, and Apollo to see if they had gotten the message. They each nodded at him, and Chester nodded back. The Games were almost upon them.

_10_

_9_

_8_

_7_

_6_

_5_

_4_

_3_

_2_

_1_

The gong sounded and Chester immediately took off running. To one side of him was October, which unnerved him. Thea flanked his other side, which was more comforting. He sprinted faster than he had ever sprinted before, his heart beating in his throat. Tears stung at his eyes as he realized that he could be dead at any second.

He snatched up a pack and paused for an instant. He heard a scream and his head snapped towards the sound, where Thea was kneeling on the ground. In front of her stood October, a bloody axe in her hands. She grinned at Chester, whose stomach lurched.

His legs ran without his brain telling them too. He raced back towards his plate, praying that he could outrun the monster that had killed his District partner. He'd grown up with Thea. They never talked much since she was so quiet, but he knew that she was a sweet girl. She was always writing. She didn't deserve this. She deserved to grow old and write stories and have grandchildren. Not this.

Chester wasn't thinking, he was just running. All of a sudden he noticed Ash and Darryl in front of him, but it was too late. He crashed into Ash, causing him to fall into the point of Darryl's sword. Chester got up, horrified, but he couldn't mourn for too long. His legs began to run again, desperate to regain the ground he had had between him and October. The footsteps behind him, however, had stopped. Chester assumed that October had decided to finish of Ash and Darryl rather than follow Chester on a wild goose chase.

As he passed his plate, the gravity of what he had just done hit him. He'd killed Ash. Kind of indirectly, sure, but he was still the cause. He had a kill to his name already, which was already too much. Not even to mention that it was sweet, oblivious, thirteen-year-old Ash Kamau. That kid had a whole life ahead of him.

Until he was reaped.

Guilt churned in Chester's stomach. He'd never make it out of these Games. His heart was hammering so fast it almost sounded like a sustained noise. His breath was ragged. His legs burned. He couldn't do this. He was not a killer.

After running another four-hundred meters or so, he finally stole a glance over his shoulder. He could see Willow running towards him, about a hundred meters away. Apollo was right behind her. Both of them were, thankfully, carrying packs. He couldn't see anyone else chasing them, which was good. Very good.

He broke through the ring of trees that surrounded the cornucopia's clearing to find himself running towards a sizeable lake. He veered left, knowing that they'd have to get around it if they wanted to keep clear of the Careers for as long as they could. After a couple more minutes, a sharp pain developed in his side. He slowed to a brisk walk, pressing a hand into the pain in an attempt to staunch it. He adjusted the black pack on his back and turned.

Willow and Apollo were jogging to catch up with him. He walked slowly backwards, waiting for them to catch up. Then a thought dawned on him and he began to panic. "Where's Conner?"

Willow paled. "Cedar got him," she said shortly. "Thea?"

"October."

The three continued around the lake for a while in silence. Chester noticed a handful of rabbits and squirrels in the trees along the lake. After a silent spell, the arena erupted with noise. The cannons. Chester stopped abruptly, startled by the sound. Willow and Apollo stopped, too. Chester counted on his fingers.

_One_

_Two_

_Three_

_Four_

_Five _

_Six_

"Six," he said aloud. "So there are still eighteen of us." Willow and Apollo both nodded. They didn't start walking again. They were near the curve of the lake, and Chester could clearly see the other side across the thin point of the lake. On the other side were more trees, and the earth began to slope downwards. A chilly breeze swept across the lake despite the warm sunlight.

"We should check what's in our packs, "Apollo suggested, breaking the eerie quiet that had followed the canon fire. "So we know what we need." Chester responded by removing the black pack from his shoulders. He sat down on a rock and unzipped the front. His two allies followed suit.

Inside, Chester found a small tent, a tube of ointment, and a small dagger. He looked up. In front of Willow were two navy blue parkas, a set of matches, and some starter wood. Apollo had laid out a knife, a third parka, and an empty water container. "Okay," Chester said. His eyes studied the supplies. "This is good."

"My one question," Willow spoke up, "is what's with all the heavy gear?"

No one answered.

**AN: Oh boy, an update. I am seriously trying to finish this. Even if no one is reading it anymore, which is okay. I'm still going to finish it. xx**


	16. Not Quite Civil

October lay on her back, watching the stars twinkle above the arena. They were so innocent. The stars never changed. No matter what happened below them, they twinkled on, constant silver specks that watched everything without judgment.

Stupid stars.

She stuck her hands up and studied them. After the bloodbath had ended, October had helped to move the bodies out of the clearing so that they would be taken by the hovercraft. Afterwards, her loosely named allies had gone to rinse their hands in the lake that Yuki had spotted between the trees. October had declined going with them. Instead she let the blood dry on her hands. It then flaked off, leaving a delicious red stain behind.

Thea and Ash had fallen to her axe earlier that day. She could have also gotten Darryl, but Levi had finished him off before she could get to him. She had taken too long killing Ash after Darryl chickened out when that idiot redhead had shoved Ash into his sword. On top of it, she'd let the redhead get away. That weakling should have died in the bloodbath. It would have been better for him.

In addition to her arena outfit—a white, long-sleeved turtleneck made out of a polyester material paired with a hooded fleece vest of the same color, insulated gray sweatpants, and white sheepskin boots lined with fur—October had also taken a black parka from the cornucopia. It was much cooler now than it had been at the start of the Games, but she hadn't put it on yet. She was using it as a pillow. October sat up and pulled the jacket onto her lap. From the secret inside pocket, she pulled out her token: a smooth gray stone carved in the shape of a perfect, five-point star.

She'd had the stone as long as she could remember. The people at the orphanage told her they found it with her. October never knew who gave it to her. Had it been a family member? A family friend? A stranger? She wasn't much for sentiment, but she kept the stone. She had it in her pocket wherever she went, out of habit more than out of necessity.

The Capitol anthem began to play, startling October. She shoved the stone back into its pocket and zipped it shut, lying back down on her pillow. One by one, the pictures of the tributes that had died that day appeared in the night sky. First to appear is the girl from District 1, Ciara Westbrook. October narrowed her eyes, thinking. She could clearly recall Ciara leaving the bloodbath. Had there been canon fire since then?

Ah, yes. She remembered now. Levi and Cedar had been arguing so loudly she almost didn't hear it.

October was glad Ciara was dead. It wasn't that she was a threat, it was that she was so helpless and bratty that it almost would have felt wrong to kill her. Stupid girl, rejecting a volunteer. October had watched her get reaped. Ciara overestimated herself greatly. She was cocky and idiotic and dead.

The next to appear was Conner Doherty, Ciara's District partner. _District 1 is out of the Games on the first night. That's strange_, October mused. She remembered moving Conner's body. After him was Ash Kamau, the oblivious thirteen-year-old from District 4. Another should-be Career gone. Then came both tributes from District 5, Natalia Domani and Darryl Duboise. October snorted. Natalia was supposed to be in her alliance, and she went and died in the bloodbath. How sad. The overweight one from District 6, Constance Wyman, followed Darryl's picture. Everyone had seen that one coming. The girl couldn't run to save her life, literally. Last was October's first kill of the Games, Thea.

Shouts arose from behind her, in the cornucopia, and October sighed. Not only was the Career pack made of tributes from typically quiet Districts, but they were doing an awful job of being a functional bunch. October could practically hear Panem resting their faces in their hands and shaking their heads at the four Careers' stupidity.

Movement to October's right startled her, and she faced a moment of panic in which she regretted not having a weapon with her. She tensed her muscles and prepared to spring up and fight the old school way when she noticed that it was Yuki that was beside her. The dark-haired girl sat down, holding out a roll and a handful of beef jerky. "Here," she offered.

October accepted the food, realizing how hungry she was. She had eaten a massive breakfast, but that was several hours ago, and it felt like longer. She sank her teeth into the roll, tearing away a chunk of the fluffy bread and chewing it ravenously. Yuki looked away in mild disgust. October snorted. With her mouth still full, she asked, "Levi and Cedar are fighting again?"

Yuki nodded, still not looking at October and her dreadful manners. "They're going to have to shut up and live with each other until we wipe out a few more tributes or it won't work. Then they can kill each other, I don't care." She stared straight ahead, her gray-blue eyes unfocused and unemotional.

"Kill each other now, later, what does it matter?" October asked, devouring a strip of beef jerky. "Only one of us can win anyway. Their bickering is annoying is all."

"We'll have a higher success rate if we can keep together longer."

"But we'll have a success rate no matter what. Have you _seen_ the other tributes?"

"Whatever," Yuki spat.

October smiled to herself, eating in silence as Levi and Cedar's argument drew to a close. After a few minutes, Levi's voice raised again. "We need to move supplies around so we can sleep in the cornucopia. Help us out, you two."

Finishing the last bite of her roll, October got to her feet. She picked up her parka and put it on without zipping it up. It was a little nippy, but it wasn't that bad. She walked over to the cornucopia, where Levi and Cedar stood, observing the supplies. "What's our game plan?" October asked coolly.

Levi shrugged. "Several options," he grunted.

Cedar spoke up. "We can either arrange them inside or build some kind of pile of them outside. It's not rocket science."

"Will there be space for all of us in there if we leave them?" October inquired.

"Doubt it," Levi responded.

"So we move them out. We can organize them as we go, keeping them close together and close to us."

The other three nodded, and they got to work, speaking little. Slowly, weapons and jackets and supplies were all sorted. They opted to keep the food inside, where it would be safer. If they kept that from getting stolen, they could focus more on winning rather than on hunting. Near the end of their cleaning, Yuki found a water purifier buried in one of the packs, and Cedar was sent to the lake to fill it up.

"I could get killed!" the twelve-year-old from District 12 protested.

"Take this," Levi said, tossing Cedar an unsheathed knife with a little grin. Cedar yelped and leapt out of the way just in time. He fixed his gaze on Levi, his eyes burning. Levi simply smiled and pointed at the lake.

"Asshole," Cedar muttered, apparently too tired to start another fight. He left the knife stuck in the ground, instead picking up his bloodied mace from the bloodbath. He hiked it over his shoulder and headed towards the water.

"Watch out for muttations!" Levi called brightly.

Yuki turned away and rummaged through the piles for a moment. "We have seven flashlights," she pointed out.

"Oops."

Yuki sighed. "You two need to start getting along if this is going to work."

"No one asked you to be in our alliance."

"_I am not the bad guy_," Yuki shot back. Her voice was getting quieter and quieter, colder and colder. "We are the Careers and we have a shot at winning if we just—"

"Yuki, Yuki, Yuki," Levi chided. "There is no 'we' in the Hunger Games. There can be only one victor."

"Ultimately, yes, but wiping out the weaklings will be faster if we work together."

October sighed. "Will you two _stop it_?" Levi and Yuki looked at her, as though they had forgotten that she was there. "You sound like an old married couple."

It was dark, but October could swear she saw Yuki blush in the moonlight.

"We need a strategy and we need sleep. We're small for a Career pack, and we're from lesser-known Districts. The Capitol is laughing at us because we don't know how to behave ourselves and how to be victors. We need to show them that our neglected Districts aren't so weak."

"So what's the plan?"

October smiled a little. This little alliance almost felt like training for her real plans: win the Games and overthrow the Capitol. "Simple," she told Levi in a matter-of-fact manner. "We put our heads together like civil people and compile our knowledge of what direction tributes escaped in. We then take day trips out to find them, but return back here whenever we can in order to secure our supplies. However, at this stage in the Games I highly doubt tributes will be inclined to come back here."

Levi nodded. He opened his mouth to speak when a rustling sound started up in the bushes. The three all turned to look at it. Levi reached for a dagger in his belt, holding it out in front of him. They all held their breath in embarrassingly frightened silence until they saw Cedar walking towards them. Levi sheathed his weapon.

"I got the stupid water," Cedar said angrily.

"Thanks," Levi said with a curt nod. The corners of Yuki's mouth twitched upwards.

"Well, we should get to bed," October said, clapping her hands. "In you go."

"I'll stay out here," Yuki said quickly.

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Someone needs to keep watch."

October narrowed her eyes. Levi stepped in quickly. "Wake us when you want to trade out."

"Please don't," Cedar chimed in.

"I'll be fine," Yuki assured the trio.


	17. Thin Ice

Levi woke up with a start. He sat up and looked around. October and Cedar were both sound asleep. There was no one else in the cornucopia. Most notably, Yuki had not come inside during the night. The District 11 tribute carefully got to his feet, picking up the dagger he had stashed inside before he had gone to bed. For a moment he looked at Cedar. He squeezed his eyes shut and sighed. Not yet. He stepped lightly on the hard floor, wary of what would happen if he startled his testy allies.

He noted as he crept towards the mouth of the cornucopia that he could see his breath. _How do people survive in these temperatures?_ he thought crossly, nostalgic for his balmy home. He paused and stuck his knife in the holster on his belt. He pulled a pair of gloves from the pocket of his parka and stuffed his hands into them. He flexed his fingers a couple of times and grabbed his knife before proceeding.

There were two approaches he could take to this. He could leap out and face the noise that must have caused him to wake so suddenly, or he could ease himself into it and hope he wouldn't get stabbed in the face.

He went with the former.

Sucking in a deep breath of icy air, Levi launched himself out of the mouth of the cornucopia and searched frantically for whatever woke him up so suddenly. But Levi didn't find a bold tribute or an enraged muttation. Instead he found a layer of snow roughly six inches deep. Around him, fluffy white flakes drifted gently around him. He looked up and watched them for a few moments. Judging by the amount of snow already on the ground, there must have been a bit of a blizzard overnight. He put away his knife and then paused. _Yuki_. His eyes instantly dropped to the snow. Her head and torso would stick up a bit from the rest of the snow. His gaze combed the field and eventually rested on the supply piles. There, in front of the stacks of supplies, the snow rose a few inches above the rest.

"Yuki?" Levi asked, taking a couple steps through the crunchy white precipitation. "Yuki?" He jogged over to her and knelt down, grimacing as his knees instantly went cold. Gently, he swept the snow off of what he presumed to be her face.

_I know she was pale, but I'm pretty sure she wasn't that pale_, he thought. "Yuki?" he asked again. He shook her shoulders lightly. No response. He wouldn't be able to feel a pulse through his gloves, and he wasn't in the mood to take them off. He experimented with lifting her up by the armpits. She sagged like a dead weight. Carefully, he dragged her through the snow into the cornucopia. Maybe there was hope.

"Up and at 'em, everybody!" he shouted, his voice emotionless. October and Cedar both jumped a bit.

"The hell?" October asked groggily, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"See for yourself," he said, pointing at the motionless Yuki on the floor. "I was thinking we could try warming her up to see if her heart will start back up."

"What happened?" Cedar asked.

"Take a wild guess. I'm sure your brain _cell_ can handle it."

"Hey—!"

"Boys!" October shouted. Levi and Cedar looked at her. She had a hand on Yuki's neck. "She doesn't have any semblance of a pulse. There's no use wasting our time."

_Of course_. "That's what woke me up!" Levi said suddenly. "Her cannon." October nodded.

"One second," Cedar said. "This doesn't add up. She couldn't have frozen to death. If she was sleeping, she would have woken up. The snow would have made her sneeze or something. Or she was still awake and would have come inside. I say Levi poisoned her, dragged her around outside, then brought her back in with his ridiculous story so he can keep us in the dark and get us next!"

Levi rolled his eyes. "You're kidding."

"I'm not!"

"Where would I have gotten the poison?" Cedar looked away. "No answer, huh? Let me enlighten you with some fun facts. Firstly, yes, Yuki would have come in if she had been awake when the snow started. Thus, we can safely hypothesize that it started up after she had fallen asleep. Now, hypothermia is a common ailment that is caused by cold temperatures. If Yuki woke up at all, she would have probably had moderate hypothermia by that point. Moderate hypothermia makes you unable to make rational decisions. On the off chance that she woke up, she wouldn't have had the sense to get up and go inside. She'd most likely just roll over and go back to sleep. Moderate hypothermia would develop into profound hypothermia. At this stage her body would stop trying to keep itself warm, and her heart would eventually just stop."

A pause.

"I'm not going to pretend to know what the theme of the Games is for sure, but judging by how quickly the temperature dropped and the winter gear we were given, it's not going to get very toasty in here. Yuki's death was a lesson, not a murder."

Cedar huffed. "Fine, smart ass. How do you even know so much about this? You're from District 11. You've never lived a cold day in your life!"

"I study."

A snort.

"You clearly don't," Levi added. Cedar turned red. Before any more damage could be done, October stepped between the two, green eyes ablaze.

"_Stop it!_" she shouted. "This is ridiculous. Your mindless bickering isn't going to win us the Games. At this point I'm beginning to question if any of us will even win. It's time to grow up and start getting some work done. Now, I was thinking—"

"Wait a minute," Cedar interjected. October shut her eyes tight and looked up at the roof the cornucopia. She took in a deep breath, then exhaled, lowering her head and fixing her piercing eyes on Cedar.

"_What do you want now_," she asked, rubbing her eyes.

"Who appointed you leader?" Cedar questioned. "I don't like you just taking over like you run the place. I, for one, think that there are people in this alliance better suited for leadership than you."

October snorted. "You mean yourself?"

"Me?" he asked with fake surprise. "Why, I am honored that you would nominate me to be leader. I will gladly accept the position."

"Cedar, honey," October said, shaking her head, "you're twelve and your temper is absolutely ridiculous. I'm not going to sit here and let you boss Levi and I around because I know you're going to screw up pretty royally. I don't know if you've noticed yet, but this is a fight to the death. This isn't a joke. We need to be serious, and you're not our guy."

Levi sighed. He squatted down and brushed away a section of the snow that had found its way into the cornucopia. The young man sat down, leaning against the wall of the cornucopia and turning his head to stare out across the open field where his alliance was situated. October and Cedar continued to fight on his other side. Honestly, his vote was for October. She was intelligent and bearable. She'd had good ideas so far. However, he wasn't in the mood to get in the middle of their spat. He was far enough on Cedar's bad side already. He didn't need to go and get his head smashed in by a mace before he could kill the brat.

Their alliance was on very thin ice.

October and Levi could function great on their own. Two loners who don't really care for the other but can put up with them? That's a dream team. It was Cedar that was screwing everything up. But the kid had brute strength, which was undeniable. It could come in handy.

The snow had not stopped falling. Little flakes settled softly onto their predecessors, piling up slowly but surely. Levi wondered just how far the Gamemakers would push the snow thing. Bundled up in his insulated clothes and parka, he figured that it was going to get even colder in the arena pretty fast. But would the snow stop? Would the temperature stop falling?

His thoughts troubling him, Levi hardly noticed that October and Cedar had finally stopped fighting. He turned his head one-hundred-eighty degrees to see that Cedar was staring at the wall while October was rationing out three portions of food.

"Good news," October said, glancing up at Levi for a moment. "Cedar has relinquished his claim to the leadership position." Cedar huffed. "Unless you want it," October added. Levi shook his head. She smiled. "Excellent. We can finally get somewhere. Come over here and get breakfast. You, too, Cedar."

She sounded like a mother, which struck Levi as strange for two reasons. The first was that, as he recalled, October grew up an orphan, and thus had no motherly model that she could be emulating. The second was that Levi, too, had grown up an orphan, and being solitary had never met a mother. He had observed, of course, but it was strange to him all the same.

Cedar picked up his meal—a roll, a handful of dried berries, and two strips of jerky—and went outside, leaving October and Levi alone inside the cornucopia. Levi took his food without a word and sat down, leaning against the wall. October sat opposite him. Neither of them were very tall, but if they both sat with their legs out—October's were bent with her knees close to her chest—then their feet would touch.

Levi ate without a word, uncomfortable. He had spent his whole life on the fringe. He didn't talk to anyone and no one talked to him. He liked it that way. Now, in the Hunger Games, he would be forced to communicate. Here he was, with only two other people, and he could no longer sit on the edges and let other people do the talking.

He glanced up at October.

She caught his gaze.

He looked down.

Embarrassed, he took a bite of his roll, hoping dearly that his cheeks weren't reddening. He could say it was the cold. He's not used to the cold. "It's pretty cold," he observed.

October nodded. "It is. It's usually warm in District 10, but sometimes it gets a bit chilly. The animals can take it. Never like this, though."

"Plants aren't so hardy," Levi smirked. "Even the weather when we entered the arena was on the cool side for me."

"Weirdo." She was smiling. Just a little.

Levi took another embarrassed bite, and silence fell over the two. After a few minutes he was nearly done with his food, and both of them had stayed quiet. Suddenly, Levi spoke up.

"Hey, October?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you're leading us instead of that bonehead Cedar."

"Thanks."

She had a nice smile.


	18. Poison

"What was that?"

Chester looked up. The wind had picked up over the past hour, and had been howling outside for a good ten minutes. Willow sat with Chester and Apollo inside their tent, which was struggling to stay up against the forces of nature. The three were all sitting against the wall that was taking the brunt of the wind's blows, hoping their weight would keep the flimsy structure from lifting clean off of the ground.

"What was what?" Chester asked loudly, trying to be heard over the screaming of the wind. His green eyes watched her closely, clearly worried.

"Nothing," Willow said immediately, as it was clear she was hearing things. Chester continued to look at her, and she averted her eyes. When she glanced back for an instant he was still watching her. She sighed. "It's just…I don't know. I thought I heard a cannon. It freaked me out a little. That's all."

Chester smiled at her. "Why are you smiling?" she asked him, her cheeks growing hot with embarrassment. He grinned.

"You're adorable."

Apollo cleared his throat then, and both Chester and Willow flinched. It dawned on Willow that the wind had died down a bit. The incessant howling had stopped, and it was possible to hear her allies speaking in a normal tone. Willow peeled herself from the wall and moved to the middle of the tent, which was only about a half a meter away from the others. Bundled up in winter gear as she was, she was still freezing. She watched as Chester crawled to the entrance of the tent and unzipped the door. The snow was falling more calmly now. The wind was still blowing, but much less severely. Willow shivered.

"Would it be crazy to build a fire?" Apollo asked hopefully. Willow looked to him, then to Chester. Chester bit his lip. Apollo looked crestfallen, anticipating the answer.

"I don't think it would be a good idea…"

"Yeah, it was a dumb suggestion."

"It's just that the wind may blow it out, or the snow could extinguish it, or we could attract attention to ourselves. It'd be a waste."

Apollo nodded. "I just wish there was a good way to warm up."

Chester nodded, sympathetic. He zipped the tent back up, realizing he was letting the chilly air in. Willow pulled her knees in close to her chest. In the pockets of each of the parkas there had been a pair of gloves. Willow had tucked hers into her sleeves to trap heat inside. She put up the hood, wishing the perpetual chill would just go away. Her stomach growled.

"Can we at least maybe look for some food?" she asked.

Apollo nodded in agreement. "Good idea," Chester told her. "Hunting or foraging?"

"Will animals be out?" Apollo asked.

"Maybe," Chester responded.

"I won't be able to kill anything…" Willow said quietly. "We should probably just forage. But bring the knife just in case. We may see an animal or something."

_Or a tribute. Another child who has been thrown into this arena that only has a one in twenty-four chance of making it out alive. A human being we may have to kill if we want to survive. Will we be able to do it? Or will all three of us be killed?_ Willow shook slightly, as though with a shiver.

Chester moved to the back of the tent and rummaged through their small pile of supplies until he found his small dagger. He then unzipped the tent and stepped outside into the falling snow. His foot sunk into the sea of white, but it wasn't unbearably deep. The tops of his boots weren't yet submerged. Willow got out after him.

Apollo hung back. "Should we all go?" he asked warily.

"I don't want to leave anyone behind," Chester said. Willow smiled at him, though he wasn't looking at her. He was so sweet. She was glad she was facing the Games with him, at least. "Our lives are more important than our supplies. The most important ones are our clothes, and we're taking those with us."

"Are you sure?"

"Come on, Apollo," Chester said lightly. Apollo dragged himself out of the tent reluctantly, zipping it shut behind him.

"So, which way?" Willow asked Chester.

"Uh…I guess any way…unless anyone saw something while we were coming here…"

Willow and Apollo both shook their heads.

Chester shrugged. "Then this way," he said, pointing to the right. He began to walk. Willow followed after him, leaving Apollo to pick up the rear. The going was slow through the snow, and Willow stepped carefully to make sure that snow didn't fall into her boots and soak her feet. She was so focused on keeping herself dry that she wasn't even looking around for food. She hoped Chester or Apollo was, or the whole trip would be for naught.

After about five minutes of walking through the snowy trees, the trio reached a dense thicket. Chester stopped, and Willow nearly crashed into him because she was so focused on her feet. She stumbled forward a little before catching herself. She flushed. The warmth in her cheeks was burning hot compared to the temperature of the rest of her body.

"We should spread out and look through here," Chester suggested. Willow nodded, and glanced back at Apollo, who agreed as well. "Okay. I guess I'll search to the right. Apollo can go left, and Willow can go forward. Sound good?" More nodding. "Okay. If you run into trouble, holler."

With that, the three split up. Willow began to wade through the snow-covered bushes, wincing as the freezing snow was pushed up against her. Some of the bushes were as tall as her shoulders, and she felt uneasy walking through it, worried that something would attack her. She was glad she could at least see ahead, but that didn't stop the knots in her stomach.

Paying attention to her feet was now useless, as a few handfuls of snow had already been shaken down into her boots. She clenched her toes, hoping she'd escape getting trench foot or frost bite. Her gloved hands trailed along the bushes' leaves, searching for berries, or anything edible. She had studied up on edible plants during the training days, as she knew she would be rubbish at anything to do with weapons anyway. She was fairly certain she could tell something safe from something poisonous, but these all just looked like fruitless shrubs.

There had to be _something_ they could eat. When they had entered the arena is was gorgeous and sunny out. Things would have been growing. It hadn't even been forty-eight hours since then, so things wouldn't have had time to rot off yet.

After a few more minutes of frustrated searching, Willow heard a yell of, "I've found something!" in Apollo's voice. Excited, she turned towards the sound and began to jog through the bushes. Her weak build had little success in fighting through the thick vegetation. She heard crashing behind her to see Chester catching up. They were built similarly, but the boy had a strong determination that Willow had been losing since she was reaped.

Eventually, they were side-by-side. Chester slowed down so that Willow could keep up. Together, they walked towards the excited Apollo, who they could now see coming towards them. He was grinning, and he held up a hand that was filled with dazzling orange-red berries. As they neared, they could see that he was chewing. He swallowed.

"I found these sticking up on stalks between the bushes. They don't taste super good, but they'll do the trick!"

Willow didn't recognize the berries, but Chester's voice was grave when he spoke.

"Apollo, can you show me one of the plants?"

His smile fading, Apollo nodded. He turned and led Willow and Chester back the way he had come. Willow watched Chester's face apprehensively, trying to read it. He looked worried, which in turn worried Willow. Though she hadn't so much as touched the berries, her stomach was beginning to flip, and she felt nauseous.

Apollo stopped. Chester bent to examine the stalk. After a good minute, he straightened up again. Apollo looked pale. "My throat," he choked out. The berries in his hand fell to the ground, leaving tunnels in the snow as they plummeted to the ground.

"How many did you eat?" Chester asked seriously.

"A couple handfuls," Apollo admitted.

"This isn't good." Chester paused. "Arum maculatum are supposed to taste awful. Furthermore, the symptoms are practically immediate. Why did you eat so many?"

"I was…so hungry…" Apollo wheezed out. "Figured it wouldn't…be a problem…thought the tingling…was from the cold…"

Chester shook his head. "We need to get you back to camp. It's possible that the symptoms will stop and you'll survive."

Apollo was as white as the snow around him at this point. "Or?" he croaked.

Looking him in the eye, Chester quietly said, "Or your throat closes up and you die."

They walked in silence towards their camp after Chester said this. Willow trailed behind them, feeling utterly useless. Apollo could walk fine, but his mouth was swelling like crazy, and she assumed his tongue and throat were, as well. She stayed back to avoid having to look at him. She was shaking, though not with cold. She was scared.

It was stupid that she was scared. It wasn't her that was dying. And it wasn't Chester. But Apollo didn't deserve this. He was so sweet and innocent. He wasn't the brightest in the bunch, but he had a kind heart. He had parents and two little sisters. Willow had never asked about them, but she figured they loved him very much. They'd be fools not to.

And now he was dying.

Willow supposed that there were worse ways to die in the Hunger Games. You could bleed to death slowly from a knife wound. You could be tortured by a Career. You could be ripped to pieces by a muttation. It wasn't that Apollo's death was pleasant. Willow knew that it wasn't. But the pain wasn't as great as it could be. He'd simply stop breathing and that would be it.

They reached the camp. Chester stood outside, as though conflicted. Finally, he told Apollo to sit.

"We can't go inside?" Apollo asked. His eyes were filled with tears.

Chester shook his head. "I don't…I don't want to contaminate anything…" He looked up at Apollo, who was truly sobbing at this point.

"So you've given up on me?"

No answer.

Willow and Chester stood together, watching Apollo. Willow wanted to say something to comfort him, but she couldn't think of anything to say. He had puffed up so much it looked like he had been pumped full of air. His breaths were ragged and he moaned about a burning sensation. There was no way that he would survive. All three of them knew it.

After a long time—or possibly only a few minutes—Apollo laid down on his back. His breathing slowed, and what breaths he did take were short, like hiccups. Breaking away from her statue stance, Willow knelt down beside him. She was afraid to touch him in case she got traces of the poison on herself. She just watched him, and he watched her back. She smiled slightly, tears welling up in her eyes. "Good luck," she whispered.

She didn't know why she said it. She wasn't a religious person. She didn't necessarily believe in an afterlife. Frankly, she didn't know what she believed. But in that moment, it felt like the right thing to say. She watched as Apollo's breathing finally stopped, and his eyes stared up blankly at the falling snow.

A cannon fired.

The tears in her eyes could be held no longer, and so they fell. Willow wept quietly over the body of a boy who shouldn't have died. Chester rested his hands on her shoulders and pulled her up. She sniffled and turned to face him. He was crying a little bit, too. "There was nothing we could do," he whispered. Willow nodded, unable to speak. She was so glad she had him. "Let's go inside."

Chester unzipped the tent and stepped back to usher Willow in when something caught his attention. "Look!" he said, sickeningly excited considering what had just happened. Slowly, Willow turned to see what he was pointing at. Though the snowflakes floated a gleaming silver container attached to a bright white parachute. While Chester scampered forward to catch it, all Willow could think was, _if it's an antidote I am going to kill those sponsors if I make it out alive._

She flinched and immediately felt bad. _New plan. I'm not going to kill anyone. Ever._

Willow slipped inside of the tent and waited for Chester to bring their sponsor gift inside. He came in, smiling through the tears that stained his face, and placed the container on the ground. He zipped up the tent and sat down. Carefully, he pried open the gift. A delicious smell filled the tent. "Stew!"

Her stomach growled and Willow smiled a little, but her gut ached. If it had only come earlier they could have stayed at camp and Apollo wouldn't have eaten the poisonous berries and they would all be sharing the warm food together.

"There's a lot of it," Chester said enthusiastically, oblivious to Willow's brooding. "If we ration it well it can last for a while. Come eat some."

Taking the spoon that Chester handed her, Willow dipped it into the steaming broth and took a bite. The effect was immediate. Warmth spread through her, heating up her chilled bones. Her skin tingled with the temperature change. She took another bite, grinning.

They didn't even notice the hovercraft that took Apollo's body away.


	19. Just Maybe

Thane and Tessa were huddled up together in a cave. When the gong had sounded at the beginning of the Games, the two began to sprint north. Tessa had snagged up a pack on her way, as she had been on the wrong side of the cornucopia. She narrowly escaped getting impaled on a sword. Thane had slowed down to wait for her, which made her sprint faster. When she reached him he took her hand and they ran off together, through the trees that bordered the meadow and towards the mountains that loomed over the northern lake.

The pack had contained starter wood, a book of matches, two pairs of gloves, two winter hats, a small steel pot, and a bag of dried fruits. They had resolved to stay by the water in order to have a source of hydration. Thane had picked up a spear on the fringe of the supplies, and they figured they could use it to attempt to catch fish in the lake or the river. In addition, they had collected a rather large pile of firewood on the first afternoon, before the snow had started. They figured it'd be useful no matter what, and since the weather and turned cold they had been using it as sparingly as possible.

Their cave was hidden behind a waterfall. A river with a source in the mountains spilled over the side of the cliffs and formed a small pool before continuing on to feed the lake. The waterfall provided a screen of protection that they had tested, and even a fire couldn't be seen through it.

When the snow began to fall, they had each put on a pair of gloves and one of the hats, as well as drawing up the hoods of their vests. They rationed the dried fruits, which had run out earlier that day.

"I guess I have to give hunting a go now," Thane said with a laugh as his stomach grumbled. Tessa smiled at him and pulled away from his slight body heat.

"I'll come, too," she said, "you know, for moral support."

Thane laughed again, getting to his feet. They had been holed up at the back of the shallow cave, in the right corner. Their meager pile of supplies occupied the other corner, a couple meters away. Thane picked up his spear and sighed. "Okay. Hunting."

"It'll be fine," Tessa giggled. "How hard can it be?"

"Let's find out," Thane said in a horrifying impression of a Capitol accent. Tessa grinned at him, laughing, and began to walk towards the entrance of the cave. Thane jogged ahead of her, spear at the ready. He peeked out of the cave and, after determining they were still alone, waited for Tessa before continuing out.

The cave was a couple of meters above the surface of the water. A thin ledge jutted out from the entrance and trailed down a gentle slope to the ground. The waterfall was so close that Thane could reach out and let the water run over his hands if he wanted, which he didn't. He and Tessa descended slowly. The fall wasn't far at all, but any injury was an injury they wanted to avoid, not even to mention the very prominent possibility of hypothermia.

Once on the ground, the two walked through the snow along the pool until they were near where it transformed back into a river. "So, uh, I guess we wait?" Thane asked.

Tessa shrugged. "All I know if you're supposed to keep your shadow off the water, but it's too dark for that to matter."

"Do fish even swim this late?"

"It's not _that_ late."

With a shrug, Thane faced the water. He searched for a shadow of a fish, squinting in the dying light. He would see flashes of silver fairly often, but they were always gone before he could get a better look at them. He sighed, becoming frustrated. He'd have to at least try catching something instead of standing there, poised to catch something as though for a photograph. With the next flash of silver, he thrust his spear forward, but came up with only water. Tessa chuckled a little behind him.

He turned and she clapped a hand over her mouth, but her eyes were smiling. He stuck his tongue out at her and then turned back to the water. He stabbed at every fish he saw, but failed consistently. Finally, just when he was ready to give up because his hands were growing numb and his patience had run dry, he managed to snag the tail of a sizeable fish. Quickly, as adrenaline filled him, he tossed the fish onto the land and stabbed at its writhing body. It flopped around for a few more minutes before lying still.

Silence.

"I, uh, did it," Thane said, uncomfortable with what he had just done. He wasn't a killer. The sheer energy that had filled him, the thrill of the kill, it scared him. Tessa slowly walked over. She looked at the fish for a while, a gaping hole through its neck.

"You did."

Silence.

"We should head back," Thane said awkwardly. "We can cook it."

But Tessa wasn't listening anymore. She was staring out across the surface of the pool, watching the snow fall. "This doesn't add up," she said finally. Thane cocked his head to the side, confused. "It's been below freezing for nearly three days. The lake should be iced over. The snow shouldn't just be melting into it."

Cautiously, Tessa took a step so that she stood right on the shore of the pond. She squatted down and slowly pulled off one of her gloves. As though in slow motion, she reached her hand down and test it with her finger. After a moment she dunked her whole hand in.

"God, that's good," she sighed.

"What?" Thane inquired worriedly.

"It's _warm!_" Tessa proclaimed happily.

Thane held back, his mind racing. "What if it's poisonous?" he said nervously.

"Nonsense," Tessa replied. "If it were poisonous, it would have killed us already. We've been drinking from the waterfall for days. I can't believe we never noticed it was _warm_! We always boiled it so we never knew!"

Still uneasy, Thane refused to put his hand in the water. "Tessa, we need to go back."

"Why? I just want to strip down and jump in!" she shrieked with delight.

Thane grabbed her other hand. "Tessa, _no_. It's a trap. They want you to jump in because when you come out you'll be twice as cold. Or, alternatively, maybe they'll suddenly make the water frigid so your muscles will freeze up or something and you'll drown."

Tessa pulled her hand slowly out of the water. She gasped as the freezing air met her skin. She quickly shook off the excess water and wiped her hand on her boots before sticking her glove back on. "That was. That was good thinking. Thank you," she said quietly, embarrassed.

He smiled in relief. "My pleasure," he responded. She leaned into him and he put his hands on her waist, but before they could kiss, the Capitol anthem began to blare. They pulled apart, both mildly annoyed, but curious enough about the tributes that had died that day.

"The snow stopped," Thane observed.

"Probably so we can see the projection of the dead," Tessa pointed out. Thane nodded.

The anthem finished. The two stood side by side, faces tilted up to watch the inky blue sky, now flecked with the light of the stars rather than the snowflakes that had been falling perpetually all day. First to light up the sky was Yuki. "But she's a career," Tessa breathed. Thane shrugged, equally confused. The District 3 tribute faded from the sky and was replaced by Apollo. "Poor kid," Tessa continued. "He was one of the youngest. Oh god this whole thing is terrible. I need to sit down."

She turned and began to run to the cave. She jogged up the slope and disappeared behind the waterfall. Thane thought he heard a sob, but he couldn't hear well over the roar of the water. It wasn't that he wasn't upset. It was that he didn't want to show it. He didn't want to appear weak. He didn't think he had much of a chance of winning these Games, but he knew he'd have to be able to stomach death if he was going to make it out alive.

Disgusted with himself, he picked up his spear and the fish he had caught. He walked slowly back to the cave, worried about Tessa. Worried about both of them.

Would it be possible for them to win?

He shook his head and shivered, not wanting to think about it. He entered the cave to see that Tessa had started a fire. He welcomed the warmth, realizing his extremities were numb with cold. He set the fish and the spear down before sitting next to Tessa and wrapping his arms tightly around her.

"You okay?" he asked softly.

He felt her nod.

They stayed like that for a moment before Thane gently released her and stood back up. He felt like a bit of an ass for ruining the moment with something so trivial, but, "Do you know how to cook this thing?"

Tessa uncurled herself from her ball position and nodded slowly. "My mum loved fish. She would buy it whenever it was available and we had the money. I'll do it."

"Can I help?"

She shrugged. "I dunno. I guess not really." Thane nodded and sat across from her, passing her the fish. He watched as she maneuvered the head of the spear with a degree of difficulty as she went about preparing the fish. First she sliced off the head and set it aside. Then she did the same with the tail. Then, gently, she cut through it horizontally, separating it into two halves. She then cut each half into five pieces, an inch or two in width.

Looking up, she said, "We can make a cooler and freeze the extras so they don't go bad. They probably won't in this temperature, but I don't know with the fire."

"I can make one by the entrance," Thane offered. She nodded in agreement. He got to his feet and went to the entrance, where snow had been collecting on the ledge. From the edge, where their feet had not kicked away the snow, he took a sizable pile and moved it so it was just inside the cave. He made a fist and created a hole in the center of the pile of snow. He then patted out the edges and closed up the top a bit so that his hand could just get in and out.

The smell of cooked salmon began to fill the cave. Wordlessly, Thane picked up the extra fish and dropped it into his snow cooler. He then returned and sat down beside Tessa as she watched the salmon in the steal pot on the hot coals. After a few minutes of silence, Tessa broke it.

"It's going to be a little bland, but it's food."

"It'll be fine," Thane told her. She shrugged.

"Hey," he said quietly. She looked up at him. "Everything will be fine."

She looked away. "But how can you say that?" she asked quietly. "Thane, we're going to die. That's it. Poof. People like us don't make it out of the Arena. We die. The Capitol is amused. That's it."

"Well I don't want to look at it that way," Thane said, equally quiet. "My brother died in these Games. It drove my parents half mad. If I don't get back to them they'll go proper insane. I can't do that to them. I have to hold out hope that I'll get out alive. And you should, too, Tessa because…"

"Because why?"

"Because I really like you, okay? And maybe we can find a way to both make it out of here alive and then we can live together in one of our Districts or the Capitol and we can have a family and see our parents again and try to live a half normal life despite these Games."

Tessa shook her head sadly, tears beginning to spill from the corners of her eyes. "It won't happen like that, Thane. It never happens like that."

In one swift motion he leaned forward and kissed her. She jumped, startled, but she didn't pull away. And they stayed like that, kissing, until they finally broke apart, slightly breathless.

"I love you, Tessa."

"Eat your fish," she responded with a smile.


	20. Embers

"Damn it," Acton muttered.

He and Anja were huddled in front of a fire they had managed to get going after countless tries to ignite a spark. They had grabbed weapons from the cornucopia—a sword and a dagger—but they didn't get any supplies. Sponsors had sent each of them a jacket with dried meat in the pockets, but that was it. It was still freezing cold out, and Acton's hands were so cold he could hardly bend his fingers. He stuffed them back into his pockets.

"I hate snow," Anja complained. Their fire was beginning to extinguish as the snow picked up a bit. The area that they had dug out in front of their shelter was beginning to fill up with snow again.

The two had gone south. After clearing the band of trees that encircled the cornucopia, they had walked for most of the day across a plain that was dotted with boulders and stout trees. They had eventually reached another forest that eventually ended in massive nine foot tall rose bushes that hugged a sheer cliff face. Using Anja's dagger, they had carved a shelter out of the rose bushes. They hollowed out a section between the stems of two of them and used the excess branches to create outer walls and a bit more of a roof. They had to be careful not to snag their clothes on the thorns and it wasn't very comfortable to lean against the mountainside, but it was dry and vaguely warmer than outside, and that was what they needed.

"I didn't think I did, but I definitely do," Acton sympathized.

Acton had been in favor of building their fire inside, but Anja had been adamantly against it. "One spark and our shelter catches on fire. Our shelter catches on fire, all these bushes catch on fire. The snow won't be able to put that shit out." Acton still wanted to at least have a tiny flame going to keep his hands warm, but he didn't want to be shot down by Anja again.

"Should we give up?" Acton asked after a period of morose silence. Anja shook her head.

"I want to get as much warmth out of this thing as I can."

Acton slid his hands out from his sleeves and cupped them over the dying flames. He felt a strong desire to slap his palms directly on the hot coals, but he figured that that would do more harm than good. A shiver ran through his body, causing him to jump slightly with its power. Anja looked up from the orange light and smiled at him, chuckling a bit. He shut his eyes, contracted his lips, and shook his head at her, like a child. She lifted a finger and batted him on the nose. Her finger was smooth and warm despite the conditions.

They stayed there, crowded around the remnants of their fire, until a layer of snow managed to cover the ashes without melting. It was then that they each unfurled themselves from the positions they had been sitting in and moved into their shelter. Acton flexed his fingers and toes, but no matter how many times he did so he couldn't bring feeling into them for more than a moment.

"This is dumb," Acton sighed.

"What is?" Anja asked, shivering as she leaned against the icy cold stone.

"This arena. We're all just going to freeze to death. Where's the fun in that?"

Anja leaned forward slightly, partly to get away from the rock face and partly because the conversation suddenly interested her. "I've actually been thinking about it quite a bit," she said in a hushed tone. Acton didn't know why she spoke so quietly. So the Capitol wouldn't hear her? They probably would be able to no matter what. "I think…I don't know, it sounds idiotic."

"It's me you're talking to," Acton pointed out. Anja smiled a little. "Just tell me."

"Well…the temperature has been dropping ever since we got here. And I've been thinking about it, and I think the Gamemakers might be trying to see how far they can go."

Acton looked at her blankly.

"I mean maybe they're seeing how cold it can get before the last person dies."

Neither of them spoke for a minute. Anja had said what she had meant to, and Acton was attempting to process it. He stared off into space, but he quickly got distracted by the girl sitting so close to him. Her skin was smooth and pale, rather like marble. In contrast, her eyes were a deep, mysterious blue. Her stylist had stained her lips red. She looked absolutely perfect, sitting there in the cold. Her thick jacket covered up her body, which Acton was truthfully disappointed about.

He shook his head. Focus. "Why would they do that?" he finally asked.

Anja shrugged. "No idea. I've been trying to work it out, but it doesn't make sense to me. They could easily just do this in a lab, with animals or avoxes or something. Not even to mention the fact that freezing to death isn't entertaining at all. I mean, I'm of the opinion that watching children die on television is never entertaining, but from a Capitol standpoint I don't see how this year's Games will be very interesting."

"God, you're smart."

"Is that all you got out of that?" Anja chided with a flattered smile.

"I'm not as smart as you. I just assume what you're saying is right," Acton replied. Anja chuckled and scooted a little closer to him.

"You're hopeless," she laughed.

_Hopelessly in love with you_, he wanted to reply, but that seemed like overdoing it. He could be a cheesy guy, but he didn't want to be _that_ cheesy. That was just a little sickening. Instead, he closed the distance between them and draped his arm over her shoulders. "That's why I have you."

Anja leaned her head on his arm. Her immaculately curled dark brown hair was mostly hidden by the two hoods she had on, but a strand of it fell across her eyes. Acton took his other hand and gently brushed the strand away, tucking it underneath her hood. Anja turned her head slightly to look up at him. He smiled down at her.

_I have to pee_.

Acton shoved the thought from his head. Anja turned back to stare outside at the falling snow. Acton rested his head on hers, and it was nice even though there were four layers of clothing between their heads. They sat there in silence, watching as the tiny white flakes continued to fall, constantly building up. Acton knew that they'd have to go out and clear the snow again soon, but he didn't want to think about that. He pulled Anja a little closer to him and enjoyed her warmth.

"Hey, Acton?" Anja asked into the air in front of her.

"Yeah?"

"I just…," she trailed off, as though trying to find the right words. Acton didn't interrupt. He squeezed her slightly, a bit like a reassurance. "I really like you," she continued, "like, a whole lot. And it sucks that we're here and that we grew up in different Districts and that we'll probably both die here. And. I just wanted to tell you."

Acton gently placed two fingers under her chin and guided her head to face him. "I know I'm not the smartest tribute, but you definitely are. Not to mention you're badass, and I'm pretty buff myself." Anja giggled a little bit. "I'm also not very good at being romantic, apparently," he joked. "But that's beside the point. Anja, if we try, we'll make it out. And we'll get famous and go places and we'll get our happily ever after."

"Can that happen? Realistically?"

"It's almost happened before. Like with what's-his-face and that girl from like a hundred-and-fifty years ago."

"Katniss and Peeta," Anja supplied. "Bu—"

"Yeah, them!" Acton said enthusiastically. "We'll be like them. They almost made it out together."

"But they didn't. Peeta died. Almost doesn't cut it."

"Well then we'll just have to be better."

Anja smiled weakly. Acton smiled back at her, but something in the back of his mind was bothering him. _Holy crap, I have to pee_. _Oh, just ignore it. You're cuddling with the girl of your dreams. Piss can wait_. He focused on her dark blue eyes. They were absolutely gorgeous. Clichéd as it was, it legitimately was like looking at two luminescent sapphires. She was flawless. It was completely unfair that she was in the Games. He wanted her to win. He would die if it meant saving her. He would be her Peeta.

She craned her neck up slightly and closed her eyes. Acton leaned in, but before their lips met, he flinched. _My GOD I have to pee._

"I'm so sorry," he said, pulling away," but I need to pee so bad."

"Is that code for something?" Anja asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh god, no," Acton laughed. "I just seriously need to pee. Like, wicked bad. I don't even know why. Okay. I'll be back."

He ducked out of their makeshift shelter, burning with embarrassment. He dearly hoped that there had been no Capitol cameras to witness that exchange. All of Panem would be laughing at him. His brother would be rolling on the floor, cackling so hard his sides hurt. Acton sighed. It didn't even matter, he just really needed to pee.

He briefly worried about getting caught on camera. _Would they film that? Is that legal? Who am I kidding, it's the Hunger Games. What the hell are laws? Oh my god I just need to pee fuck it. Oh god what if another tribute is watching me. WHAT IF THEY KILL ME WHILE I'M PEEING? Oh my god I need to calm down. I need to pee_.

Eventually, he quit worrying and just hid in a clump of bushes. The air was absolutely frigid and the experience was completely miserable. He returned to the rose cave a few minutes later. Anja smirked at him, blocking the entrance. "Did you wash your hands?"

"Oh my god it's like negative a trillion degrees what do you want from me?"

"Negative a trillion?"

He stuck his tongue out at her. "Fine," he said, smiling a little bit despite his reluctance. He bit his lip and plunged his hands into the snow. He rubbed them around a bit until they felt raw with cold and then wiped them on his pants before hiding them in his sleeves. "Happy?"

"I mean ideally you would have used soap, but I understand, considering the circumstances."

"How noble of you," Acton said sarcastically. She beamed. He looked sternly at her for a minute before cracking. "You're too cute it's not fair."

She smiled at him and grabbed the front of his jacket, pulling him towards her.

**AN: This chapter is proof that I have no idea how to write a horny teenage boy. I'm sorry you had to read that, haha. xx**


	21. Third Time's the Charm

Skye, Marshall, and Craig stood on the shore of the eastern lake. There was a narrow pass of land between it and the northern lake, a couple hundred meters wide at best. A while ago, Craig had noticed an island in the middle of the lake. If they could get there, they'd be safe from the other tributes.

They could win.

"Any ideas?" Craig asked again. Skye and Marshall both shrugged, sighing a little bit.

Marshall spoke up. "Maybe there's a bridge or something." Craig shot him a look. "I mean, not like a proper bridge. But maybe a fallen tree or something. We could walk around the whole thing and see."

Craig wrinkled his nose. "I feel like that would be a waste. What if there's no bridge? Then we've spent who knows how long freezing to death while we walk in a circle. Also, we're not that far from the cornucopia. Walking through unfamiliar territory is a disaster waiting to happen." Marshall shrugged.

"We could build a raft?" Skye suggested. Immediately, she saw the flaws in that idea. "Wait no. No we couldn't." She blushed, looking down. Marshall smiled at her.

"Yeah, we lack the supplies for that," Craig said. A silence fell over the three of them. Craig wandered a little ways along the shore, staring intensely out at the island. Skye looked over at Marshall and shrugged. She sidestepped so that they stood next to each other. He put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side.

The only thing they had managed to grab from the cornucopia was a small knife. They were all cold all the time without any extra layers, and the snow continued to rise. They were trudging through about a foot and a half at this point, less than four days in. The pace was beginning to pick up, and white flakes were becoming more and more frequent as time went on. Skye leaned into Marshall, trying to pick up his smell, but all her nose sensed was freezing air. She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed him.

"I want to go home," she said softly.

Marshall kissed her forehead. His lips were dry and chapped, but Skye didn't mind. The gesture was what mattered. Without meaning to, she began to cry. "It's okay, Skye," her ally murmured into her skin. But she kept crying, the hot tears leaving warm trails on her frozen skin. Because it wasn't okay. They didn't have extra clothes or food or a proper shelter or a good weapon or anything they needed to survive. If they even lasted another day it would be a miracle.

"I just wish none of this had happened," Skye said, her voice shuddering through a small sob. "And I keep closing my eyes and thinking that I'll wake up and I'll be at home and I never got reaped and this is all just a stupid nightmare and everything's okay and I'll see my parents again and get to live my life, and I'll be able to get married and have a family and I won't get slaughtered by a Career…" she trailed off.

In a swift motion, Marshall swept Skye off her feet so that he was holding her bridal style. He lifted her up close and pressed his lips gently to hers. When they pulled apart, Skye looked up to see him staring down at her with his earnest green eyes. "There is only no hope if you refuse to have hope," he told her softly. The corners of Skye's mouth turned up so slightly that the motion was almost undetectable. She leaned her head into Marshall's chest. Through his insulated clothes, she could still faintly hear his heartbeat. Calm and constant.

A scream.

Marshall set Skye down hastily, and she barely kept herself from losing her balance. Another scream pierced the air. Skye turned to see Craig running towards them. But that wasn't what caught Skye's attention. What caught her attention was the massive shark that was slithering after him like a snake. It looked to be about three and a half feet tall and maybe seven feet long. A bright yellow band separated its grey upper half from the bottom white half. Without knowing what she was doing, Skye let out a high pitched shriek. Marshall grabbed her hand and took off, leading her away from the muttation.

"We need to gain higher ground!" Skye shouted breathlessly.

"And then what happens? We sit there until it goes away?" Marshall yelled back.

"What are our other options?"

"Run!"

A bloodcurdling howl split the air. Skye glanced over her shoulder and promptly tripped out of pure shock. She tumbled a few feet and ended up facing backwards. She stared with wide eyes as she watched the shark devour Craig. It had gouged out his throat, and his head flopped forward, splattering itself in blood. It then went for his stomach, tearing a hole straight through it. His ripped intestines spilled out onto the snow, staining the snow red. A cannon fired.

Skye felt a pair of hands lift her up by the armpits. Marshall threw her over his shoulder and continued to run. She could still see Craig, who was slowly becoming more a pile of flesh than a human. She wanted to close her eyes but she couldn't look away. After a few more moments, the shark fixed a beady yellow eye on her and Marshall. Skye screeched again and felt Marshall put on an extra burst of speed. The animal raced towards them, not at all deterred by the snow. Whenever a pile built up in front of its face, it simply made a tight half circle around it and kept going, growing closer and closer as Marshall desperately tried to keep ahead of it.

Just as the shark was close enough that Skye could see its multiple rows of teeth, it stopped. Its tail continued to lash back and forth as though it were trying to go forward but something was keeping it back. "Marshall," Skye said. "Stop." Marshall continued to run. "Marshall!" Skye repeated, louder this time.

"What?" he wheezed out, still running.

"It stopped."

He slowed and looked over his shoulder. Warily, he put Skye down and turned to face the shark. Skye's heart was pounding as she stood beside the boy from District 10. The shark was a few meters away, still trying desperately to reach its intended victims. Skye grabbed Marshall's hand and squeezed hard. She gripped his arm with her other hand, releasing her tension into him. The two watched as the shark struggled.

"What do you think happened?" Marshall finally asked. Skye shrugged, studying the wriggling animal.

"Maybe it has to do with the yellow band?" she guessed. "There could be some kind of invisible fence that's activated by that thing."

Marshall nodded. "Sounds right."

They watched the shark for a little longer. Its lunges toward them became less powerful, and eventually it turned and slunk back towards Craig to feast on his cold flesh. Skye looked away as the beast tore into what had been her ally. She released her hold on Marshall's arm, but she didn't let go of his hand. She turned and tugged lightly. He followed her. Together, they trudged through the ever accumulating snow.

"Where to?" Skye asked after a while. They had cleared the patch of land between the two lakes and continued to follow the river that fed the eastern lake towards the mountains. Twilight had fallen, and the snow took on an orange-pink hue as it reflected the fading light.

Marshall shrugged, shivering. "We can find a cave or something, and then just huddle up and attempt to stay warm."

"Yeah. Yeah, okay," Skye agreed.

The two approached the mountains in silence. They followed the curves of the river as they ascended into the foothills. Skye's legs were numb with cold, and walking had a surreal feeling about it. She felt like she was floating, detached from the rest of her body. The light continued to fade and the snow continued to fall. It was up to Skye's knees, and she had trouble keeping up with her tall ally.

Skye didn't want to keep walking. She wanted to curl up in the snow and sleep. Her shivers were so violent that she was constantly trembling. Her hands were balled up in her sleeves. She could hardly move her fingers. When she reached up to brush a strand of hair out of her face she flinched. Her fingers looked heavily bruised, taking on a deep blue color. She quickly covered them back up, holding back tears.

She knew that she was going to die.

But she kept walking. She kept walking because Marshall kept walking. If she stopped he might not even notice, and then she would be alone. She would die alone, buried in the falling snow, so frozen that her brain could no longer form a coherent thought.

"Does here look good?"

Skye looked up. Marshall was gesturing towards a cave to their left. Skye shrugged and then nodded. He led the way inside. "It's not much," he said, "but at least there's no snow in here."

The red-headed girl managed a chuckle. She collapsed at the entrance and crawled to the back of the cave. Her legs were impossibly numb. She had never been much for exercise, and the arena had been too much on her screaming muscles. She curled up into a ball in the corner of the shallow cave and continued to shiver. Marshall sat down beside her and lifted her slightly so that her head was in his lap. He was shivering, too, but he didn't seem quite as cold or out of breath.

They sat in silence, focusing on conserving heat. Every few minutes Marshall would say, "Are you okay?" and Skye would nod, making a small noise. She would have cried at his concern, but her even her eyes felt dry and numb with the cold. She kept them closed. That was easy. She felt like slipping into a nice, long sleep. Marshall would protect her.

Faintly, she heard Marshall ask if she was okay, but she was too far gone.

"Skye? Skye!" Marshall yelled, beginning to panic. He shook her shoulders lightly. "Skye. Skye, wake up. Skye." He pressed two fingers to her neck. There it was. Her pulse. It was incredibly slow. She had stopped shivering. Her skin was impossibly cold. Colder than his. "Skye. Skye, please." Tears began to spill from his eyes. "Skye, wake up. Skye I can't watch you die. Skye, I can't. Please. Don't die. Please. I can't do this."

He shook her more vigorously. "Skye! Be alive. Please. Live. I can't do this." When she failed to respond, he pressed his fingers to her throat again. He felt around frantically, trying to feel her heartbeat again. "Don't be dead. Skye, I swear I will kill myself if you die. I don't want to be a victor without you. Skye, I don't want to face the arena without you. Skye, wake up." One beat.

A long pause.

Another beat.

A longer pause.

A minute.

Two minutes.

A cannon fire.

Marshall let out a guttural moan. He wrapped his arms around her freezing cold body and pulled her close to him. His tears fell more violently now. He sobbed openly, not worrying about being heard. He didn't care anymore. He was ready to die.

Setting down Skye's body, Marshall reached for the knife that he had grabbed during the bloodbath. With trembling fingers he unzipped his vest, providing a clearer target. He looked at the dagger, tears blinding him. He drew in a slow, shuddering breath. He shut his eyes tight and counted to ten. He thought of his mother. Of his father. Of his sister. Of his brother. He knew he'd never see them again. He'd rather take his own life than die like Skye did.

"I love you," he murmured before driving the weapon through his heart.


	22. Up All Night

The sound of a cannon jolted Chester awake. He crawled outside to see that it wasn't yet completely dark. Chester and Willow had turned in early. There wasn't much for them to do other than clear the snow away from their tent and eat sparingly from their dwindling sponsor food. Before twilight had fallen the allies had turned in for the night, zipping up their tent and snuggling up together to keep warm.

The Capitol anthem began to play. Chester looked back at Willow. She was still snoring softly, her chest rising and falling gently. He decided not to wake her. He closed up the tent and stood in the snow, which was halfway up his shins again already. The music died down and Chester watched as the first picture flickered into view. It was Skye Douglass, the girl from District 4. Her face faded from the dark sky to be replaced by the District 6 boy, Craig West. Last was Marshall Reed, the District 10 male.

Marshall's image faded and was replaced by the Capitol insignia, which shone for a moment before the music ended and the sign disappeared and Chester was left alone in the darkness. He bit his lip, thinking. He could clearly remember Skye and Marshall spending every possible second together before the Games began. Additionally, he remembered the two of them running from the Cornucopia with Craig.

So what could have wiped out an entire alliance?

Still thinking, Chester unzipped the tent and crawled inside. He didn't want to wake up Willow, but it was too cold and snowy outside to stay there. The heat difference was hardly noticeable, but the tent did retain some warmth. Chester curled up in a corner and wrapped his arms around his knees, hugging them close to him.

No matter how secure he felt in his tent with Willow, he could die at any moment. He was in this arena to die. That was that. He knew that he'd never make it out alive. A part of him always knew that, even if other parts were hoping that it wasn't true. Every moment he was alive was a moment he could have died. It was unpredictable. It was inevitable.

So what _did_ kill Craig, Skye, and Marshall? Chester could remember a cannon earlier in the day, which means they didn't all die at once. Could they still have died the same way? Did they get killed by other tributes? Muttations? The cold? Poison berries, like Apollo? Or was it something else? The worry ate away at him, driving him deeper and deeper into his paranoia. Outside, a branch snapped and crashed to the ground, the weight of the snow on its leaves finally being too much to bear. Chester jumped and his heartbeat spiked. He settled back down, listening to the hammering in his chest.

He didn't want to sit still anymore, but at the same time he couldn't stand the thought of going outside alone in the middle of the snowy night. He crawled over to their stash of supplies and took out the bowl of stew. It was still faintly warm, but soon enough it'd be the same temperature as everything else: frigid. With slightly shaking hands, he screwed off the top and ate a spoonful. He savored the heat in his esophagus as it trickled down into his stomach. It was unfair to Willow to be eating without her, but a selfish part of Chester didn't care. He scooped up another spoonful and ate it. His stomach had been rumbling since they entered the arena, and the few bites of food did little to satisfy him.

After one more mouthful he stopped himself. He tucked the spoon into its container under the lid and twisted the cap on, tightening it as much as he could to lock in the heat. He placed the soup back on their supply pile. He then curled up in the corner and sat, unsure of what to do. He had hardly slept and yet he didn't feel tired. He just stared at the opposite wall of the tent, brooding.

He missed his parents. He was their only child. He didn't want to die on them. They were only in their late thirties and could probably have another kid if they wanted to, but his heart wrenched as he thought of them replacing him. He hugged his knees close to his chest, blinking away tears. He wanted to go home. He wanted to grow up and have a family and he didn't want to die on his parents and he didn't want his parents to die. He wanted to have never been reaped in the first place, more than anything he had ever wanted before.

And then there was Willow. Chester hadn't known her for very long, sure, but he would do anything for her. And if it came to it, he'd kill himself so that Willow could return home a victor. As much as he didn't want to hurt his parents, he wanted her to be happy. She had to put up with so much already. Her father was distant, leaving her to care for her three younger sisters. And her sisters didn't make it easy, always complaining and being rude. Willow deserved so much better, but instead she was reaped into the Hunger Games.

Chester knew life wasn't fair, but he wished he could make it just a little better for Willow. It was the least he could do.

He thought back to his last moments with his parents. He didn't say anything to them, trying to hold in the tears. He just stood there, like an idiot. He couldn't remember what his last words to them were. Probably something stupid like, "See you after the Reaping."

_"Don't let them beat you. You're smart. Don't forget that. You can outsmart them. I know you can."_

The words of his father echoed around in his head. Knowing that he had his father's support was comforting, but at the same time he couldn't bring himself to believe him. He wasn't anything special. He was a scrawny fourteen-year-old boy. He was a little bit smart, but he hardly thought it would be enough to get him out of the Arena.

He was a dead man walking.

It was still snowing outside. Chester wondered if it would ever let up. He imagined the snow piling up and piling up and burying the tent. The weight of the flakes would cause the roof to collapse in and he and Willow would eventually be crushed. And Willow wouldn't feel a thing because she's asleep and Chester wouldn't wake her and with any luck she would stay asleep and Chester could lie next to her. She'd die painlessly. He'd be in a lot of pain, but he'd be with her.

Shaking his head, Chester did his best to push the idea of death from his mind. It was hard, knowing that the end was dreadfully near. He focused on his breathing, evening out his breaths and thinking of nothing but the smooth pattern. He filled his lungs with air and exhaled slowly and softly. The steady rhythm calmed him. He closed his eyes, his entire mind fixed on _in out in out in out_.

In the darkness Willow stirred. Chester opened his eyes and watched her. She rolled over onto her stomach with a small groan, nestling her head in the crook of her right arm. She then flipped back over and sat bolt upright, as though she suddenly remembered where she was. "What time is it?" she asked groggily, wiping at her tired eyes.

"I dunno," Chester replied with a shrug. "It wasn't even midnight when I got up. I don't know how long it's been."

Willow crawled over to the entrance and unzipped the tent a bit. "It's pretty dark," she observed. "Though I guess we wouldn't be able to see the sun, anyway." Chester nodded. "So," she continued, sitting back on her heels. "Did anything interesting happen while I was asleep?"

"They showed the pictures of the dead."

"So who was the cannon earlier in the day?"

Chester bit his lip. "I don't know. There were three people."

"But there was only one cannon."

"The other two woke me up," he answered. "At any rate, it was Craig, Marshall, and Skye."

Even though it was dark, Chester could see Willow's face pale. "Weren't…weren't they all an alliance?" she asked tentatively. Chester nodded slowly. "I wish we knew what killed them," Willow said quietly. "I want to be prepared. I just want to know what we're up against. I feel like we're just waiting to get killed."

A silence followed. Chester stared down at his hands, mulling over an idea. After a few minutes, he looked up. "So maybe we should stay on the move, then." He glanced up at Willow. "It's better than sitting around here. It will give us something to do."

Willow chewed on the inside of her lip, looking at Chester with her wide blue eyes. "I…I don't know. We could be walking right into a trap…"

"Or we could be walking away from one."

She shrugged. Chester closed the distance between them and placed his hands on each of her shoulders. "I'm not going to pressure you into anything. Whatever you want. Okay?" Willow nodded weakly. She leaned forward slightly and pecked him on the lips.

"You're right," she said. "We should keep going. It's better."

"We leave at dawn!" Chester joked with a grin. Willow smiled and pulled him close to her, kissing him again.

**AN: Oops it's been a while again. Sorry this chapter is pretty short. I'm trying my best to finish by August 30****th****. xx**


	23. Lurking

"Wake up!" October called into the mouth of the Cornucopia, banging the handle of a knife against a metal pot she'd found at the bottom of one of the supply stacks. She smiled as Cedar and Levi sat up, both of them looking around wildly. She waved at them and received scowls.

"What was that for?" Cedar questioned crossly.

"You two sleep too much," she replied with a falsely bright tone. She was attempting to appear likeable for the audience. It was going poorly. "It's time to get up and face the day."

Levi laid back down, pulling his sleeping bag over his head. "Why?" he asked, his voice muffled by the insulated material.

"It won't be long before the Gamemakers get bored," October explained, setting down her knife and pot. "We haven't _done_ anything. They're going to drive us out of here eventually, and it's better if we do it on our own accord. It's time to hunt tributes!"

"Someone has to stay behind and guard," Cedar began. "I—"

"I volunteer!" Levi interrupted. "Called it." He stuck his tongue out at a pouting Cedar before laying back down. "You kids have fun."

October sighed inwardly. She wasn't thrilled about being left alone with Cedar. And, as much as she didn't want to admit it, she liked Levi. Just a little bit. The way he looked at her…it distracted her. She craved it. _I'm pathetic_, she told herself, shaking her head slightly. "Alright," she said aloud, "then it's settled. Cedar and I will head out and kill some tributes while Levi holds the fort. Eat a quick breakfast and then it's go time," she added, looking at Cedar and pointing to the food she had rationed out earlier in the morning.

She turned on her heel and headed outside into the falling snow. They had secured a tarp on top of the Cornucopia using some heavy stones and then stretched it out over their supplies. The snow had to be cleared from the plastic roof every few hours to keep it from sagging too badly, but otherwise it worked well. October ducked her head inside the structure and grabbed her axe from a little ways in, protected from any snow the wind might blow in. She straightened up and did a few practice swings, enjoying the familiar motion. Cedar stumbled outside blearily, beef jerky in one hand and his mace in the other.

"Let's get this over with," he muttered. "Where to?"

"Okay," October said, twirling the handle of her axe. "The way I see it, our biggest threats are Newt, Wren, and Zephyr. The other remaining tributes don't seem to be top contenders, and frankly I don't think they'll last long in these conditions. My prediction is that the weather will kill them and we shouldn't even bother.

"Which begs the question, where are our greatest enemies? To tell you the truth, I have absolutely no idea where Zephyr is. I do, however, know that Newt and Wren are allies, and I saw them go northwest after the bloodbath. Thus, we go northwest."

"What are the chances we'll even run into them?" Cedar pointed out angrily, finishing his breakfast. "It's been days. They could be anywhere!"

"Cedar, Cedar, Cedar," October chided, "you need to open your buggy little eyes. Wren and Newt are smart girls. That means they're going to stay near water. Okay, so the arena has water all over the place. However, they are also smart enough to know that you tend to slack off, and that you fell asleep during your watch last night." Cedar opened his mouth to protest, but October held up a hand. "When I was laying out breakfast this morning, I noticed that two packets of jerky were missing. At first I assumed you had eaten them, but then I noticed two trails of footprints heading to and from the Cornucopia, coming from the northwest. Yes, those two are smart, but they didn't factor in the variability of the weather into their calculations, so snow didn't fill up their footprints enough for me to not notice the ones in the deeper snow outside our clearing. Thus, we can conclude that Newt and Wren are both northwest of here and not far off, probably near the water."

The boy looked at her, a faint expression of awe on his face. October smiled. "This is why I'm the leader," she said, patting him once on the cheek before turning away. "Off we go!"

October led the way, following the footprints that Newt and Wren had so carelessly left behind. It was only an assumption that it was those two, but they were the only ones October had seen go that way after the bloodbath. She had taken into account that people probably had moved around, but she couldn't imagine any of the other tributes being stealthy or courageous enough to steal food from right under their noses. Besides, it didn't quite matter exactly who they found. They'd come across two tributes no matter what, and when they did they would kill them. Simple.

Wading through the snow was a slow process, as it reached over the knees of both tributes. They followed the footprints into the stretch of land between the northern and western lakes. The footprints became more frequent, and walking was easier since there were more paths to follow. October slowed down, keeping her axe poised. With every step her eyes scanned the vegetation around her, trying to catch a glimpse of their prey.

A laugh broke the silence.

October froze for only a second before reacting. She scampered over to the nearest tree and crouched down behind the bushes that ringed its trunk. Cedar stared dazedly at her for a few moments before following suit, settling down in the snow beside her. In her low crouch October was almost completely submerged in snow. She shivered as the freezing flakes settled around her. She kept her gaze focused on where the laugh had sounded from, taking deep breaths to suppress the adrenaline that was making her hands shake with anticipation.

"…so glad we have food. I can't believe they let that oaf take a watch. They're making it too easy."

Cedar tensed and began to rise, but October slapped a hand on his shoulder and forced him back down again just as the two girls came into view. They were ambling along slowly, each eating the stolen food. The two looked like twins from a distance. They were both slim and short, with medium-length hair the color of chestnuts. Wren had slightly sharper features, making it her appear angry all the time. Maybe she was. The only other noticeable difference was their eyes: Wren's were a guarded grey color while Newt's were an alarming green.

Wren sat down on a rock that had been recently liberated from its snowy blanket. Newt dusted off a log and perched herself on the end. She smiled at her ally. "No one can be Careers like the District 1 and District 2 kids. The poor mock-Careers just can't measure up. All the tributes this time around are so weak and idiotic. Winning will be a piece of cake."

Before she could stop it, a snort escaped October. She clamped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. She watched as Wren rose slowly to her feet, drawing an arrow from her quiver and positioning it on her bow. Newt looked at her quizzically before raising her spear and facing October and Cedar's hiding place.

Just before October could spring into action Newt let out a high-pitched scream and collapsed, clutching her neck. A gleaming silver arrow protruded from her skin. October's eyes quickly found the arrow Wren was holding. It wasn't friendly fire. There was someone else out there.

Wren shrieked and began to sprint towards October and Cedar. "Go, go, go!" October shouted, tugging Cedar's arm as she rose. She took off running, not waiting to see if her heavier ally was following after her. Wren could kill him for all she cared. She just wanted to get back to the Cornucopia. She wanted to survive. She wanted to be a Victor.

To her left she spotted a tree with low branches. In one swift motion she swung her leg over the nearest one and began to climb, using her axe as a hook to propel her up to the next branch. Once she had climbed a couple of meters she glanced down to see Cedar leaning on the trunk, breathing heavily. "We're not being followed," he gasped.

"Are you sure?" October asked warily, not moving. "That arrow came out of nowhere…"

"Wren doubled back, probably to go to her camp. I think whoever killed Newt intended it as a hit-and-run and left before they could endanger themselves. Besides, your shouting would have clued them in that we were there. Newt was a lot of talk, but I'm sure she and Wren are both worried about us."

"...Would you look at that, you said something smart!"

"Shut up," Cedar spat. "We shouldn't have run off like that. We could have easily killed Wren and Newt's killer."

"And there it goes," October sighed. "Wren and the only other person with a bow and arrow—that is, Zephyr—both have long-range weapons while ours are both close-range. Staying and fighting would have been way too risky."

"I say we could have done it."

"No one cares what you say."

Silence ensued as October picked her way back down the tree, pausing after every branch to see if she could hear anything suspicious. Only one of their top opponents was down, and the other two were in the vicinity. Her stomach was clenched into a tight knot of worry. She wished she had a radar screen or something. The thought of the other tributes lurking in the arena made her feel sick. She hated surprises.

The blast of a cannon made October jump, and she nearly slipped off her branch. She caught herself in the last moment, breathing a sigh of relief. Either one of the others had taken pity on Newt, or she'd bled to death. But she was dead, and that was what was important.

When she reached the base of the tree Cedar was still heaving with the effort of the run. She patted his back jokingly. "We can stick around here for a bit, if you want," she offered. _Say no say no say no say no say no_.

"Yeah, okay," Cedar agreed.

_Oh, fuck you_.


	24. Like Always

Levi sat in the mouth of the Cornucopia. His set of daggers was laid out meticulously to his right. Time was passing at an agonizingly slow rate, and he had taken as long as he could to place each dagger at exact intervals, lining up the handles and facing the blades in the same direction. He had eventually settled on watching the snow fall, allowing himself to be mesmerized by the flakes. It struck him as strangely beautiful that they all fell with such discord and yet they settled on top of each other in a way that seemed perfectly planned.

He couldn't stop himself from worrying when the cannon fired. The more time that passed after it, the more worried he became. What was taking his allies so long? Had one of them died?

Had October died?

Shaking his head, he told himself he was being silly. October and Cedar had gone tribute hunting, and the cannon was probably for one of their victims. Besides, if one of them died it would no doubt be Cedar. He was incompetent, and though he was thicker than October, Levi had faith that she could beat him if he attacked her.

And yet time passed, and worry continued to eat away at him. He expected to hear another cannon. He was ready to face the fact that his allies were dead and that he alone had access to the Cornucopia. He tried telling himself that October and Cedar were simply trying to make another kill, but as the light began to fade he wondered what was taking them so long.

Levi wasn't used to caring about other people. He had grown up an orphan and an outcast. He was used to standing on the fringe of society and watching life go on for everyone else. Oftentimes he had spent his childhood days pretending that he wasn't human at all, but instead the child of a higher being, sent to observe the human race and report his findings back to his father eventually.

He had never really been religious, but he had always shown interest in outer space. He would pretend that his father had never been killed by a peacekeeper, but instead he had returned to space in his true form: a star. Young Levi had wanted to believe that he was better than everyone, and that was why no one liked him. He convinced himself that he was a child of the stars because the stars were outcasts, too. They watched the humans but never participated. Like Levi.

But now Levi had someone to care about. For the first time in his life he felt a connection to another person. He'd never tell October about his affections for her. He knew that she'd laugh in his face. But he cared for her nonetheless.

When Levi became old enough to understand the Hunger Games his longstanding dream began to form. For years he had entertained a fantasy in which he escaped Panem and found a new civilization, one without a tyrannous Capitol and awful events like the Games. He knew that there had to be more people out there. He didn't think the Capitol would work so hard to contain the Districts if Panem was all there was. There had to be more, and Levi intended to find it.

This fantasy had never involved another person, but as Levi waited for October and Cedar to return, October slowly crept her way into it. He imagined the two of them both becoming Victors. She'd move to his District or he'd move to hers because how could the Capitol separate young love? (Love. The word felt strange in his head. He toyed around with it. It was a word he'd never used before.) They'd plan their escape until they knew nothing could go wrong, and then they'd go. They'd take off and run until they reached their new home.

Of course, that would never happen. There could only be one Victor. For all Levi knew, October could already be dead.

A sigh escaped Levi. Dreaming was hopeless. The Capitol stomped out dreams with death and destruction. Any glimmer of hope was quickly eliminated. Hope was dangerous. The Capitol didn't want their perfect little world to collapse. They wanted strict, hopeless order.

The last time Levi cried was when he was five years old. A fat boy in the year above him had stolen his orphanage lunch and thrown his meager meal into a mud puddle. Before he had realized what he was doing, he was standing over the boy that was twice his size, his hand smeared in blood from the kid's nose. A peacekeeper dragged him off. The moment the white gloves closed around his shoulders he began to bawl. He knew what had happened to his father, and now he was convinced it was going to happen to him.

His schoolteacher convinced the peacekeepers that it was all a misunderstanding and that they were working on Levi's temper and that no harm had been done because Levi wasn't strong enough to hurt the oaf of a bully that had provoked him. Ever since then Levi refused to cry, hating the looks of pity people had given him that day.

Tears misted his eyes now, and he blinked hard. He was eighteen years old. He would not cry. He would not show emotion. He would sit and wait.

It was cold. It was mind-numbingly, bone-cracking cold. Levi missed the warm, humid weather of his home District. He missed the sweltering heat that made him sweat merely because he was alive, the salty water pooling on his clothes even if all he did was lie prostrate on the floor. No matter how much he complained about it, he'd take it back in a second. Anything to get away from this hell he was living.

He wondered if he'd freeze to death. Despite his triple-layered clothing he was shivering. He couldn't help but think that this was how he would die: not in a battle that he tried valiantly to win, but huddled up, cold, alone.

Dying alone had no appeal to him. He had spent his whole life alone, and just once he wanted to feel like a part of something. He wanted October with him. He actually liked her, and he was never very fond of people. He didn't want to die now that he finally had something to live for. It was unfair. He shivered again. It didn't seem to him like he had hypothermia, but no one ever knows they have it until it's too late. He could be dying. He ought to say something to the cameras he couldn't see. He didn't want to die. He wasn't ready to die. He had such big plans for his life. He needed to get out of Panem. He had to know if there really was something out there or not. He had to _live_.

Muted beeping caught his attention. He turned his head towards the sound and a small smile broke across his face as his eyes found the source. Two silver capsules attached to white parachutes were drifting towards him in the dying light. He got to his feet, shaking out his limbs that were stiff from sitting for so long in the cold air. He took a few steps out into the snow and caught the sponsor gifts. Through his gloves he could feel that the metal was warm. He brought them inside and sat down in front of them. He peeled off his gloves and opened up each of the containers, his smile widening at the contents.

Inside he found seven steaming chicken drumsticks and a thermos full of piping hot coffee. Seven. A prime number. This food was not meant for him to share. It was a gift to him and him alone. The idea made him feel happier than he had felt since the reaping, which was rather silly, but he didn't care. True, October and Cedar may have received something, but he liked to think that the sponsors favored him. Of the three best tributes in the arena, he was the chosen Victor. That was the best news he'd heard in a long time.

He picked up the first drumstick and promptly dropped it from the heat. He didn't want to use his dirty gloves, and he figured any heat was good heat. He picked the food up, gingerly this time, and sank his teeth into it. He had no idea how the Capitol knew how he liked his chicken, but it was perfect. The skin was seasoned and crispy while the tender white meat below it was moist. He savored each bite, and quickly tore through one, two, three, four of the seven. He'd have to eat them all so that October and Cedar didn't know he'd kept them all for himself, and he didn't mind. October had been rationing the food obsessively, and she gave out miniscule portions despite their abundance of food. His stomach had been growling softly for days, and now he could finally fill it.

As though suddenly remembering its existence, Levi uncapped the coffee thermos and took a sip. It burned his tongue, but he didn't mind. It was ten times better than any coffee he'd ever had. Maybe that was the hunger talking. He sipped it gratefully, feeling warm all over for the first time since he had entered the Arena.

Being alone wasn't so bad anymore. And maybe that was because he knew he wasn't alone, even though there were no people beside him. He had the faith and support of the sponsors. And if he could see the stars through the clouds, he would smile up at them because it a fantasy anymore, not really. He had a guardian watching over him, waiting for him to come home.


	25. Shadows

Willow and Chester trudged through the snow, bent slightly forward at the effort of dragging themselves through the deep drifts. Their packs appeared to get heavier and heavier as their legs weakened. They had divided their supplies among them evenly. Chester was carrying the tent despite Willow's repeated offers to trade it off every hour or so. Apollo's pack had been left behind, empty, at their last campsite.

The two had decided to go north. There wasn't any real thought behind the direction, they just needed a place to go and that was the first thing they could think of. They hadn't seen any other tributes since the bloodbath, and they had no idea whether they were walking into danger or not. They had been walking all day, and they were nearing the small mountain range that dominated the northern part of the arena.

"How much longer are we going to walk for?" Willow asked, her voice muffled because she had pulled the collar of her jacket up over her nose.

Chester stopped, turning to face her. "Uh, I don't know," he admitted, scratching the back of his head aimlessly. "I figured until it gets dark."

"Maybe we should stop now," Willow suggested, "so there's light to see by when we set up camp."

"Good idea," Chester agreed.

Looking around, they were still surrounded by forest, as they had been all day, but the trees had thinned slightly from where they had spent the past few nights. Willow could clearly see the mountains looming closer with every step. For the most part the trees were spaced out rather evenly, but there were some clumps. Willow pointed to a group of three trees that slightly sheltered the ground between them. Their leaves blocked out much of the snow, and they were bent heavily over the triangle of land. "Maybe there?" she suggested.

In response, Chester waded his way through the snow over to the spot she had indicated. He placed both his hands on a thin branch and shoved down, snapping it clean off. He then slid his pack off of his back and hooked it up. Willow followed after him, watching as he began to clear the snow away from where they would pitch the tent. They'd gotten quite good at the job, and soon they had cleared the foot of snow away, leaving a circle of exposed ground ten feet in diameter.

Together, they pitched the tent near the edge, leaving plenty of space to build a fire. The branches and leaves above had created a fairly solid roof, and unless it collapsed, their fire would be fairly safe from the snow. They figured it would be hard to see the fire and smoke with the weather conditions, and frankly they needed the warmth. They began to break the driest branches they could find from the trees near them. Willow was numb all over, but the promise of a fire kept her going.

A _woosh_ sound distracted the girl from District 12 and her head snapped up, searching for the source among the sea of white. "Chester," she said softly. She didn't dare peel her eyes from the sky. He didn't hear her. She wanted to look to see where he was, but her head was frozen in place. "Chester," she repeated, slightly louder. Another _woosh_.

More panicked this time. "Chester!"

"What is it?"

"There…there's something up there."

She could hear his footsteps coming her way. She still couldn't tear her gaze away from the sky. She blinked wildly as a snowflake perched itself on one if her eyes. Chester stopped beside her. "What is it?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know," Willow told him, and edge of a sob creeping into her voice. She didn't like the uncertainty. She could feel that this…this _thing_ was going to swoop down and kill them both. This was the end. She reached out her right hand and grasped for Chester's hand. He slipped his fingers into the spaces between hers and squeezed her hand gently. She squeezed back, refusing to loosen her grip. _The end, the end, the end, it's the end_.

_Woosh._

Her eyes caught hold of a dark shadow as it sped over her head. "Did you see that?" she asked frantically, finally looking at Chester. He nodded.

"What do you think it is?" he asked.

She shrugged, turning her head back to the sky. It flew back over them, the beating of its massive wings sending another thick blast of wind down. "Must be a muttation. Personally, I don't want to find out."

Chester let out a tiny laugh, though it was laced with nervous energy. "I guess it hasn't noticed us. Or maybe it's friendly?"

"A friendly muttation," Willow repeated. "Good one." She sounded harsher than she had meant, but she was too focused on the mystery animal to try and do anything about it. Chester hung his head and blushed.

"Dumb idea, I know."

Willow didn't reply for a while, still staring up at the sky that was now a velvety black. She was still holding tightly on to Chester's hand, and she loosened her grip slightly without letting go. They were alive. They could die in a matter of minutes, or maybe hours if they were lucky, but for now they were safe. They were alive. "I guess…I guess we probably shouldn't build a fire…" she suggested reluctantly. "It might draw that…that thing's attention…and…that probably wouldn't be a good idea."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Chester replied.

"I'm so cold, Chester."

He pressed up against her, giving her a rough peck on the cheek. "We should go inside," he told her, leading the way. She stumbled a bit at first, partly because she was startled and partly because her neck was craning to get one last look at the shadowed beast. Chester led her to the clearing and unzipped the tent. Just as he was ushering her inside the Capitol anthem began to play. Willow paled. "What's wrong?" Chester asked her, taking a couple wary steps backwards.

"What if it hears…what if it gets angry…?"

"Shhh," Chester soothed softly, slipping an arm around her waist. "It's okay. We're okay."

On command, the clouds were cleared away from a large patch of sky in order for the face of the one tribute that had died that day to be seen. Willow relished the view of the sky that had been shielded by clouds since the first night. The stars shone and winked just as they always had. Peeking out from the edge of the clouds was the moon, brilliantly white. A smile crept across her face at the sight. It was familiar. It was safe.

The anthem died out and Newt's face appeared in place of the Capitol insignia. The girl from District 8 looked thoroughly unhappy in her photograph, and Willow wondered if dying was even bad for her. Maybe she was happy to go. As Willow continued to think about it she began to imagine Newt dead, her bright green eyes staring blankly forward. She shook her head and shivered, turning to head back inside. She heard Chester follow after her. She slipped into the tent, lying on the floor with a moan.

"You okay?" she heard Chester ask, an edge of worry in his voice.

"Fine," she mumbled into the floor.

"You should eat," he continued, kneeling down by their packs and rooting around for their sponsor gift. Willow rolled over and propped herself up on her elbows. The fatigue of walking all day was beginning to set in and all she really wanted to do was sleep. She watched as Chester found the soup contained and uncorked the top. He frowned at the contents. "You should have all of it," he said. "There's hardly any left, and I had some while you were asleep last night."

She shook her head weakly. "We share," she said.

"There's not even two spoonfuls here," Chester protested. "Just take it. Please?"

"What was that?" Willow asked.

"I said—"

"Not what you said. Listen."

Chester opened his mouth, a quizzical expression on his face, then closed it. He set down the bowl of soup and unzipped the tent, stepping outside. Willow sat perfectly still, waiting for him to come back. She could hear his smile as he returned. "Another one! Another sponsor gift!" he proclaimed excitedly. "I think it's more soup."

Sitting down beside her, he popped open the container to reveal another thermos of soup and two rolls that were still warm. He grinned at Willow, passing her a roll. She tore it in half and held it up to her face, relishing the feel of the hot steam on her freezing cold skin.

"You don't look very happy," Chester observed as he chewed a bite of the bread.

"Wha—?" Willow asked, looking up.

"Something's on your mind. I can tell."

Willow blushed, though it was hard to tell since her cheeks were so red with cold. "I can't believe you know me so well even though we've known each other for such a short amount of time…but anyway…I was just thinking…well, why are we getting sponsor gifts?" she asked softly. "Why us? We're nothing special. We're not particularly strong or, let's face it, likely to win."

"You're forgetting something."

"What is it?"

"This is a TV show, Willow. It's not just about the Victor. The Capitol wants to be entertained, and there's more ways to be entertaining than just killing. They're suckers for romance. They get attached to relationships and will do anything to keep them alive, even though they know there can only be one Victor. My guess is that they're keeping us alive because they've fallen in love with the idea of us. And, I mean, I don't blame them. This could just be my opinion, but I think we're pretty cute."

She smiled. "Adorable."


	26. Promise

Thane sat in the cave rubbing his legs vigorously. They were completely numb with cold. He was afraid to peel back his pant legs and take a look at them. He knew what he'd find. They'd be dark purple with serious frost bite. _If I make it out a Victor I'll probably have to get most of my body amputated_, he thought bitterly. His legs screamed with pain whenever he stood up, but he had to appear strong for Tessa.

"Is there any food left?" he asked. She was sorting through their supplies, taking note of what they still had left. Tessa shook her head regretfully, biting her lip.

With considerable effort, Thane got to his feet. He steadied himself against the cave wall for a moment before straightening up. "I'll go hunting, then."

Tessa shook her head. "No way. I'll go. You're way worse for wear than I am."

"No," he argued, taking a step towards her. "I'm not letting you go out there alone."

"I'm not letting _you_ go out there alone!" She picked up the spear and stood in front of the entrance, holding it defensively. "I care about you, okay? I'll worry too much."

"And you think I won't worry if you go out there alone? There's no way I'm letting you go."

"Then we go together."

Thane shook his head again. "You're going to stay here and sit by the ashes and try to stay warm, okay? And I'm going to come back in one piece, and we'll eat together, and everything will be fine. Let me do this for you. I like protecting people. And I'd rather worry about you being here in the cave than worry about you getting attacked by an animal or something."

Tears welled up in Tessa's eyes and she lowered the spear slightly. "Is it…is it dumb that I'm afraid you'll leave me? Like, not even die, but just never come back and try to win the Games without me because I'm holding you back. I'm scared you'll make a better alliance or something."

Taking a few steps forward, Thane wrapped his arms around Tessa. She dropped the spear, which clattered for a few moments on the exposed rock before settling. "I would never do that," he whispered into her ear, holding her tightly. "I care about you. A lot. And I will do anything and everything to make it back to you. We're in this together, okay? And I'll be back tonight. I promise." He pulled away slightly and placed his hands on her slim shoulders. He kissed her lightly on the lips and then detached himself fully from the embrace. He bent down and picked up the spear. "I promise," he repeated before leaving the cave.

"I love you," Tessa said quietly. Thane hardly heard it over the roar of the waterfall. He smiled to himself as he picked his way down the slope. He wanted desperately to keep his promise. Not just for Tessa, and not even for his parents, but simply for the selfish reason of not wanting to die. Death scared him. He didn't subscribe to any particular belief in an afterlife, but he figured there had to be _something_. The idea of a black oblivion scared him. Floating through an empty space, not living, not thinking, not existing.

He didn't like to think about it.

Walking through the snow was slow, but fishing had proved too difficult for him to do when his muscles were so numb. He figured hunting animals had to be easier since they were visible for more than a second. He couldn't imagine what kind of animal would be out in this weather, but they had to be somewhere. All the birds and small woodland animals he'd seen when he'd first entered the arena couldn't have just disappeared into thin air. He'd find something.

He plowed his way towards the trees, keeping his eyes peeled for tracks: animal or human. The last thing he needed was to be attacked by another tribute. He had to get back to Tessa. The snow continued to fall, as always. As far as he could see, the landscape was undisturbed. It was perfectly white and smooth, the snow hiding all the land's imperfections. All the dips in the land, all the leaf litter, all the weeds, all the fallen trees were covered in an unbroken coat.

They never got much snow in District 2. And when they did, it never hid the land so completely. It would just accent everything with thin white lines. It was never as beautiful as the Arena looked.

It was strange to him, that the place where he was doomed to die in was so striking and radiant. Death had never struck him as a beautiful thing. He saw it as messy and painful and heartbreaking. It was a bitter end. It was the sad conclusion to all life. It was never beautiful until now.

Now death was a way out. It was liberation from the Arena. It was freedom from all the pain he had endured. It was still terrifying. It still meant be separated from Tessa and from his parents. And yet it was sickeningly beautiful.

He'd walked farther than he'd realized. The snow was no longer perfect but crossed with paths. They looked too wide to be human. He approached one of them warily, slowing down. Massive paw prints were pressed into the snow. Thane swallowed hard. Whatever it was, he didn't want to get in its way. However, the beaten paths were his best chance of finding an animal. Nothing small could walk through the snow otherwise.

Thane crept slowing along the path, keeping his spear poised at all times. It twisted and turned all through the forest, weaving around trees and doubling back on itself all the time. His legs burned with each step even though walking was much easier since the snow had already been cleared for him. He fought the urge to collapse. He had to catch something and get back to Tessa. He'd promised. His legs felt like lead, but it didn't matter. He had to keep his word. He couldn't die on her. He couldn't.

A flicker of movement up ahead caught his attention. His eyes fell on a rabbit. It hopped aimlessly along the path, turning around at random and heading back. The head of Thane's spear was hideously big to use against such a small animal, but he had no choice. If they rationed it right, the rabbit could hold Thane and Tessa for another two days, maybe more. He had to kill it.

With careful steps, he crept towards the unsuspecting animal. The snow crunched softly underneath his feet, and he kept expecting the animal to look up in shock before running off, but it didn't. Once he was close enough to ensure his spear would hit its mark, he raised it behind his head. He drew in a deep breath and hurled it forward.

It all happened so quickly.

Suddenly the rabbit was gone. In its place was a crater of exposed earth. In the middle stood a beast that had to be at least four feet tall. It looked vaguely like a rabbit, but it had obvious modifications. Wild crimson spikes had sprouted from its spine. Its claws had swelled to ten times their original size, no longer little slivers but fat, lethal talons. Fangs protruded from its mouth. But most disturbing of all was its eyes. Oh, its eyes. They were brilliant vermillion orbs with thick black pupils. The beast had a slightly different face shape from the rabbit, and its eyes were located on the front of its head rather than the sides. The eyes of a predator.

Thane wanted to run but it was as though he had forgotten how to move his legs. His spear was ten feet away, lodged in the ground at the beast's feet. The beast took a step towards him, baring its new fangs. Thane knew that he couldn't run. _I have to fight. This thing could feed me and Tessa for weeks_. He focused his eyes on his spear and tried with all his might to move his legs. The adrenaline bubbling up inside of him restored feeling to the muscles and he sprinted forward just as the beast lunged at him. He dropped to his stomach and slid underneath it.

Scrabbling to his feet, Thane tore his spear from the ground and fixed it on the beast. It turned around angrily and pawed at the ground before running at him again. He tried to jump out of the way, but it was fast. It was incredibly fast. Its front paws caught him in the chest. Its claws, thicker than his thumbs, tore through his jacket, exposing his flesh. He screamed louder than he had ever screamed in his life. Louder than he had ever heard another person scream. The pain was unlike anything he had ever felt. His legs were nothing compared to this.

He could feel warm blood pooling on his chest as the monster pulled away and prepared to lunge again. Thane gripped his spear and stabbed wildly. The animal was too fast. It dodged nearly every blow, escaping with only a scratch on one of its legs. The fire burned brighter in its eyes and it lunged again, this time biting down hard on his leg.

Another scream. His vision tunneled for a moment. The pain. Oh god, the pain. Tears blinded him. He bit his tongue so hard that he tasted blood. He was dying. He was going to die.

His thoughts immediately turned to Tessa. She was alone in the cave, no doubt worried about him. He had promised. He had _promised_. "Tessa," he breathed, gasping from the pain. "Tessa, I'm so sorry. Tessa, I want you to win." He knew that she couldn't hear him. He didn't care. "Tessa, please win. Tessa, become a Victor. Tessa, I love you. Tessa. Tessa, I'm sorry. I tried so hard, Tessa."

Blood was pouring from several puncture wounds. His mind felt foggy. He knew he was nearly at the end. "Mom, Dad," he continued. "I love you. And I'm going to be with Lance now. Okay? Please remember that I love you."

The beast raked its claws along his leg. He shrieked so loud he thought the snow would drop from the trees at the noise. The pain was unbearable. He didn't think it was possible to feel so much pain. He felt like his nerve endings would explode.

"End it. End it, please," he gasped, his face streaked with tears. "_I am ready to die_."

Teeth sank into his neck. The beast pulled hard, tearing the front of his throat clean off. He tried to scream again but it came out as a strangled gurgling noise. His vision was fading quickly. This was it.

It was over.

With a grunt, the beast lumbered off.

The Arena was silent again.

A cannon fired.


	27. Falling

"I love you more."

"No, I love _you_ more!"

"I love you the most!"

"Okay, you win," Acton conceded, planting a kiss on Anja's nose. The two were still holed up in their make-shift cave under the rose bushes. They had attempted to build several fires, though only a couple of them managed to burn and only one burned for more than a minute. The exertion of their attempts warmed them up a bit, but they were still, for the most part, freezing to death.

Literally.

Anja gave him a goofy smile, giggling. "I know," she said cutely, pecking him on the lips. She was worse off than Acton, and he suspected she was starting to lose it. He had, however, considered that maybe she was just putting on a show for the sponsors. Or maybe making a joke out of it was her coping method. "I'm sleepy," she decided. She patted his jacket, fluffing it like a pillow, and leaned against it. Her eyes closed and she smiled, snuggling into his arm.

"Maybe you should stay awake," Acton said, a slight edge of worry in his voice. He gently removed his arm from under her and propped her up against the cave wall.

"But I'm _tiiired_," she whined, looking at him with her eyes that were the color of the ocean before a storm. He gave her a little smile and kissed her on the forehead.

"I'm just a little worried about you," he admitted.

"Well don't be, silly," she laughed, sitting up a little straighter. "I'm perfectly dandy. I'm a little hungry, though. Do we have any food left?" Acton shook his head regretfully. "Oh. We should get some. Starvation is a boring way to die."

Again, Acton couldn't tell if Anja was actually losing it or just trying to send a message to their mentor. "Maybe we can go out and find some," he suggested, making a move as though to get up. She placed a hand on his shoulder and he sat back down beside her.

"Not right now," she said, a small smile playing on her lips. "I'm tired."

A small rock landed in the clearing in front of their shelter. Acton sat up, his senses suddenly very alert. "Where did that come from?" he asked warily. As he spoke, a second rock, slightly bigger than the first, fell to the ground with a _thump_ several feet from the first one. "Anja. Get up. We have to move." He looked at her to see that her eyes no longer held a playful light but instead looked serious and worried. _I guess she was acting_.

He jumped as a massive boulder slammed against the ground, nearly blocking the entrance. "Anja, we have to go!"

"My legs!" she said, tears beginning to spill from her eyes. "I can't move. I can't. I don't. I—"

Acton cut her off by grabbing her wrists and heaving her up to her feet. He began to drag her along after him. She stumbled and fell forward. He hooked an arm around hers and kept her upright, pausing to grab his sword before leaving the thorny cave.

One glance upwards proved that his suspicions were correct. He could see the thick cracks in the rock face. Another chunk of the mountain plummeted to the ground and landed ten meters away. He stared at it, dumbfounded, for a few seconds before continuing to drag Anja along as quickly as possible. His heart was thumping in his chest and he wished he could go faster, but if he picked up the pace Anja would fall flat on her face. She was already dragging a couple feet behind him.

A wave of air knocked him forward with its force. Anja shrieked. He flung his arm away from himself to keep the sword from harming him. He face-planted into the snow and laid there for only a second before he scrambled to his feet. He started forward but was tugged back by a solid weight on his arm. He turned to see that Anja had fallen and had her legs trapped under the rock.

His eyes widened in shock and he began to yank on her arm. "Stop it!" she screeched. "Stop, stop, _stop_! It hurts! Oh, god." A hiccup of a sob escaped from her mouth as tears made salty trails on her cheeks.

"I'm going to get this off of you. It's going to hurt, but I'm going to." He jumped as another rock tumbled down the cliff face and crashed into the snow. He dropped his sword and let go of Anja's arm, instead beginning to push with all his might against the massive rock that crushed her.

"Don't help me," she said through clenched teeth. "Run!"

Acton continued to push at the boulder. "I'm not going to leave you here," he said evenly.

"Stop trying to be a hero, Acton," Anja gasped, biting her tongue to suppress another scream. "Even if you get me out I'll only be a liability. My legs won't work, Acton. We'll be sitting ducks and I am _not going to be the reason that you die_."

"I can't let you die, Anja!" Acton shouted, losing control of the tears he'd been trying to hold back. "Who knows how long you'll be stuck here before you finally die? Hours? Days? I'm not going to put you through that pain."

"Listen to me, Acton. In a matter of minutes, the top of the mountain is going to break off entirely and wipe out anything in the area. You need to run, _now_. If I managed to get out of this, I wouldn't be able to run. I'd slow you down and we'd both die."

"So we die together."

"_No_. You need to try and win. For me. Please. I know that if you try you can do it. You're not stupid like you think you are, and you're strong. You have the makings of a Victor."

"I'm not going to have you die because I chose to save myself instead."

"_I am going to die today no matter what. _You have a chance, Acton. Take it."

He took a step back from the rock. He knelt down beside Anja. Her eyes were puffy and her nose was red. He could see blood staining the snow under the rock. His stomach clenched. "I'm so sorry," he breathed, kissing her lightly on her forehead.

"Run, you idiot," she said with a sad smile.

Getting to his feet, Acton grabbed his sword. He paused for a moment, staring into the woods. "I love you," he said aloud. He glanced back at her, but she wasn't listening. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was shallow. _Run, you idiot_. His eyes stung with tears, but he sprinted away. After two minutes of running he heard a colossal crash that seemed to shake the entire Arena. He looked back to see a pile of rubble and snow settling over where he had been sheltering with Anja. He stopped and turned, leaning against a tree because he felt like he might throw up. He had to hear the cannon. He needed closure.

A minute.

Two minutes.

Three.

_Maybe she made it out_, a voice whispered inside of him._ Maybe she's waiting for you to come help her. She's okay. That's why the cannon hasn't fired_.

With the faint flame of hope in his chest, he began to jog back towards the avalanche. He swallowed the knot in his throat and focused on breathing. _She has to be okay. She has to be_. He slowed down as he reached the edge of the heap of snow and rocks. "Anja?" he croaked. Clearing his throat, he called her name again. "Anja?"

No answer.

The thought of her slowly suffocating to death made his heart ache. She was dying a slow, painful death because he hadn't tried hard enough to help her. It was all his fault. She had lied to him. He was an idiot. A complete and utter idiot. He didn't want to win, not without her. Becoming a Victor in her name wasn't enough. It wouldn't, it couldn't replace her. He had to have her back.

"Anja?" Still, there was no answer. With the land buried under the fallen rocks, he couldn't tell where her body would be if she was dying. So he simply stood there, watching, as the seconds ticked by. He hated himself. He hated that he hadn't saved her. He hated that she was dying because of him. Was she dying? Yes, he was sure of it, as much as it pained him. She couldn't have gotten far. She would have heard him and called out to him.

It was almost a relief when the cannon fired.

Acton drew in a deep, shuddering breath and exhaled slowly. That was it. She was gone. He glanced down at the sword that was limp in his left hand. It would be easy to end it now. But he shook his head slightly and turned around, beginning to walk away from the site of her death.

Anja had asked him to win for her.

So he would.


	28. A Flash of Red

"This weather blows," Chester sighed. The snow was at mid-thigh level, and walking through it was like walking through molasses. His legs were utterly numb with cold. He wondered if the snow would just go on until the end of the Games. May the tallest tribute win.

Willow made a small noise of agreement, her energy focused on picking her way through the snow. Chester had told her countless times to follow behind him, but she was insistent on plowing her own path beside his. They had spent another day heading towards the mountains. Whatever beast had terrorized them when the darkness began to fall clearly wasn't fond of the daylight. They resolved to hunker down while it was still light out to avoid getting attacked.

"You'd think that they'd have learned after the one year where most of the tributes froze to death. It's not interesting. The Capitol is probably bored to tears. I mean, at least we had more supplies than the last time, but seriously, it's cold. It's super cold. Like, I didn't even know it was possible to get this cold in nature. They have to be like, engineering the air to be this cold. I can't imagine why they would be, but that's the only explanation, and it's stupid. Of course, they must have something exciting planned. Otherwise this Arena is basically exactly the same as the old one. Granted, that was nearly two hundred years ago, but honestly, technology is always evolving. They should have been able to come up with something cooler. Haha. Cooler. Oh man, this weather is getting to me."

"Chester."

"How many tributes have died already? Fifteen? So that's six in the bloodbath, and then we know that Apollo ate the poisonous berries, and that leaves eight deaths that we don't know about. My guess is most of them are from the cold. Oh, well there was the noise we heard earlier today. That felt like an earthquake. I guess that could have been what killed the tribute that the cannon fired for. But, still. That's seven deaths that were probably just because it's colder than humanely possible."

"Chester."

"And furthermore—"

"You're pretty unobservant for the smart one," Willow said teasingly.

"What?" he asked, looking over his shoulder and giving Willow a confused look. She giggled and pointed at the sky. Chester looked up, squinting for a moment against the sunlight. He blinked a couple times before it hit him. _Sunlight_. "Do you think they heard me?" he asked, slightly worried. "Oh god, they must hate me. I insulted the system. Oh god. Oh god, Willow, I'm so sorry."

"Calm down, Ches," Willow said. "Like you said, there has to be a twist to this Arena, otherwise it'd just be a repeat. This must be the calm before the storm."

He took a deep breath. "Yeah, you're right. It must be a coincidence. The only remaining question, then, is…what's the storm?"

Willow chewed on her lip, looking at Chester anxiously. "Only one more tribute has to die before the final eight," she said quietly. "So they must have something big planned."

"Okay," Chester said, weighing the situation quickly in his head. "So we just need to stay alive. The both of us. And then whatever they have to throw at us, we'll face it together. Okay?"

Willow looked at the ground. She was trembling slightly, but Chester wasn't sure if it was from the cold or from fear, or possibly from something else. "Okay," she murmured. Chester lifted her chin slightly so that she raised her eyes and looked at him. He gave her a reassuring smile, which she attempted to return.

"I'm here for you, okay?" he asked softly. "We're in this together." She nodded meekly. "And, on the bright side," Chester continued, "it stopped snowing!" This coaxed a smile out of her. "We're not going to be up to our eyeballs in this stuff. Maybe some of it will melt! Well, no, it probably won't. I don't think even the sunlight could melt this stuff at this temperature. But hey, we can have hope. At least our tracks won't get covered up, so if we need to go back, we can actually walk normally!"

"You have this incredible knack for cheering me up," Willow told him.

"It's part of my charm," he said nonchalantly, brushing off his shoulder. He looked up and caught Willow's eyes for a second before they both burst out laughing. Chester placed a hand on her waist and kissed her lightly. He could feel her smile, which made him smile, and they dissolved into another fit of giggles.

"We should probably keep going," Willow said when they had both calmed down. "To…wherever we're going."

Chester nodded. He adjusted his pack, lifting the straps up for a second because they were digging into his shoulders. The snow reflected the sunlight and hurt his eyes, so he raised a hand and shielded his face before continuing to walk through the woods.

Up ahead there was a wide thicket of brambles. Some of the snow had accumulated on top of the six-foot tall bushes, creating a thick layer of white on top. "Should we go through?" Chester asked, turning his neck to look down to the ends of the massive patch of underbrush. "There may not even be a way around."

With a shrug, Willow said, "We may as well just go through."

As they approached, Chester saw a flash of red through the snowy branches. His only thought was to protect Willow. He quickly drew his knife. The red appeared again. He took aim and threw his dagger, just like he had learned during training. The weapon seemed to fly in slow motion. Chester expected to hit a fox or some kind of muttation. He was protecting Willow. That was all he needed to know.

He was completely caught off guard by the scream.

It was high-pitched and feminine, splitting through the air and hurting Chester's ear drums. His heart began to beat in his chest and he panicked, running forward and pushing apart the dead leaves and the snow and the branches. A meter or so in he found Tessa writhing on her back, a dagger, _his dagger_, lodged in her stomach.

"Oh god," he breathed. Tessa cried out again and he felt the blood drain from his face. "What have I done?" he asked quietly. Louder, he said, "Tessa, we're going to help you, okay? We're going to do our best to save you."

_I can't have another death on my hands._

_I just can't._

He grabbed one of the District 11 girl's legs and moved slightly aside so Willow could grab the other. Together, they dragged the tall red-head out of the thicket and into the open. Her eyes were squeezed shut and she was gasping from the pain. She had one hand clutched around the hilt of the dagger. Chester didn't think he was able to throw that hard, but he supposed it had been fairly close range.

"Listen to me, okay, Tessa?" he said, kneeling down beside her. "I'm going to pull out the dagger. Okay? It's going to hurt, but it's the only way that we can try and take care of the wound."

_And I'm praying to any higher power out there that it's not too bad_.

Gently, he pried Tessa's bloody fingers from the knife and wrapped his hand around the metal handle. Willow placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a reassuring squeeze. He placed a hand on Tessa's stomach and she winced. Tears leaked from her closed eyes. With a deep breath, he pulled hard.

Tessa shrieked and opened her eyes. Chester stared down at the blade of the knife. It was dripping dark red blood, and pierced on the end was a piece of what Chester assumed to be Tessa's intestines, though he'd never been much of a scholar on human organs. He heard Willow gag behind him. The hole in Tessa's chest wasn't very big, but it was bleeding like crazy, and there was no way she'd survive without serious medical attention.

Chester dropped the knife beside him, sitting back on his heels. So that was it. Tessa was going to die any minute.

"I'm so sorry," was all he could think to say. "I didn't know it was you. I thought it was an animal, and…and I just wanted to protect Willow. I'm so sorry."

Her voice was very soft when she spoke. "It's…not your fault. I would have done…the same…At least now I can tell him…I love him…I hope."

_Of course_. Thane had died the previous day. Chester could remember seeing them together before the Games started. He could understand Tessa's point of view. If Willow had died, he wouldn't mind death. Winning would be tainted by his loss. Something about his relationship with Willow felt very real. The emotions in the Arena seemed magnified ten times more than anything else he had ever felt.

Slowly, Tessa's breathing became more and more shallow. Eventually, the cannon fired.

"So that's it," Chester said quietly. "It's over. I killed her."

"Ches, it wasn't your fau—"

"Don't start, Willow. I killed her. I threw the knife that caused her death. I killed her. I tore out the knife and ripped out her intestines, wounding her beyond repair. I killed her, Willow. I'm a killer."

"There's no way to win the Games without killing someone. That's the whole point of it."

"I…I was hoping I'd be different. I don't know. I've killed two people."

"You didn't kill Ash."

"I basically did! I shoved him right into the sword. He could have gotten away if it wasn't for me. And now Tessa. I'm a murderer, Willow. Even if I make it out alive, I'll be a murderer. On the Victory Tour I'll have to face their families. They'll hate me." He glanced down at the knife. "Maybe I should just kill myself."

Willow snatched up the knife, holding it behind her back. "No. No, I won't let you. Chester, you're a lovely person. The families of Ash and Tessa were watching. They'll miss their children, of course, but they know that what you did wasn't intentional. You did what you had to do. That's it. That's what happens here. That's what the Capitol wants. It's not your fault you couldn't break away from the norm."

"Give me the knife."

"No."

Chester seemed to deflate into the snow. "Then you kill me."

"You are not going to die, Chester. Not by your own hand. You are going to try your hardest to win the Games and I am going to stay by your side to the best of my ability. You've been there for me through all of this, and I'm going to be there for you, okay? We're in the final eight, Ches. We can do this. A third of the tributes are gone, and we have a chance at victory. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Now get up. A storm is coming."


	29. The Storm

A cannon fired.

October and Cedar had returned to Levi after spending a cold and anxious night away from the Cornucopia. October looked to Levi, and when their eyes met he gave a curt nod. "So, that's it," October said. "The final eight."

Victory seemed so tangible now. Throughout the Games October had entertained the idea of winning, but it had never seemed so real as it did now that there were only eight tributes remaining. She'd have a stretch of power as a Victor. There was no question that she would ask to mentor tributes for future Games. They would be able to aide her in overthrowing the Capitol if she trained them correctly. She briefly fantasized about training up an army of District 10 Victors, but she knew the chances of that ever happening were extremely slim. The living Victors from District 10 could be counted on one hand. The District 10 Victors from all two-hundred-and-thirty-eight Games could be counted on two.

She wondered who they would interview back home for her. And for Levi, for that matter. They didn't have family or close friends. To October's knowledge, no one at home cared much for her. No more than they'd typically care for a random stranger. She wondered if they were rooting for her. District 10 tributes were usually dead by the first night, if not in the bloodbath. Maybe they were hoping she'd win. Probably more for the spoils the Capitol would shower the District with for a whole year than for her, but it was nice to think that she had at least a shred of support.

The Capitol anthem began to play, startling October out of her thoughts. She exchanged confused looks with Levi and Cedar. The latter pointed to the sky, where a picture of the official announcer for the Games, Livia Garnette, had materialized.

"Good afternoon, tributes," she greeted with a smile, brushing her periwinkle blue side bangs off of her face. "Congratulations on making the final eight. You have survived valiantly and won the hearts of many of the Capitol citizens. However, now a twist comes into play." October swallowed, a lump forming in her throat. "You will be divided into two groups of four. The object is to wipe out the other group, at which point all remaining members of your group will all be crowned Victors."

October jumped as she heard Levi's whisper in her ear. "What do you think?" he asked in a low voice.

"I'm uneasy," she said softly, hardly moving her lips. "This happened in the 74th Games, didn't it?" She felt Levi nod. "Only they changed their mind when the two tributes from District 12 were left, and Katniss had to kill Peeta anyway."

Livia's voice commanded their attention. "The groups will meet on the Cornucopia side of the northern and southern lakes. Failure to meet up with your teammates will result in brutal punishment. The northern tributes will be October Tyne of District 10, Wren Thomas of District 7, Cedar Thornfall of District 12, and Acton Cuthburt of District 3."

_I'm not with Levi._

"The southern tributes will be Zephyr Raine of District 8, Levi Gail of District 11, Willow Emelda of District 12, and Chester Vine of District 9. And may the odds," she said with a girlish chuckle, "be _ever_ in your favor."

_I'm not with Levi._

October didn't want to care, but she did. Oh, she did. It would be extremely difficult to somehow beat the system and make it out alive with Levi. She didn't know why she wanted it so badly. She'd hardly spoken to Levi. They hadn't kissed or anything. Hell, they hadn't even hugged. And yet she wanted him to be a Victor, too. She wanted him to live because he was the first person she'd ever…not despised. As a general rule she didn't like people, and the one time she found someone she could tolerate, only one of them could survive.

_Fucking odds._

"So," Levi said quietly.

"So," October and Cedar echoed.

She took a step back. "Guess we should get going."

"Guess so."

Her eyes met Levi's, and for a moment she thought she saw a smile play on his lips, but the movement was too quick for her to be sure. "Good luck," he said quietly.

Cedar snorted. Levi turned and fixed his cold grey eyes on the boy, raising a dagger maliciously. "You listen here," he said, his voice a growl, "if you kill her I will saw off each of your limbs individually. That's a promise."

"Yeah, yeah," Cedar spat. "Let's go," he added to October.

She tried to catch Levi's gaze again, but he kept his eyes fixed on his daggers as he secured them on his person. With a small sigh, October lifted her axe and rested it on her shoulder, following after Cedar with an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.

The Arena looked even more beautiful now that the sun was out. The snow seemed to sparkle as it reflected the sunlight. It hurt her eyes if she looked at it for too long, but it was gorgeous nonetheless. She had grown tired of the snow. She didn't miss the overcast grey skies at all. The sky was now a saturated light blue in the afternoon light. Many of the leaves had shriveled up and died in the frigid temperatures, but if they had lived their green color would have looked gorgeous against the blue.

Cedar led the way, following the path that he and October had made when they had gone tribute hunting. October was more worried than ever about whether or not Wren had seen them after Newt's death. Maybe the girl would hold a grudge against them even though they'd never even made a move against the two girls. Sure, they had their intentions, but they were innocent enough.

She hoped.

They wove through the trees, making their way towards the sapphire blue lake. Despite her gloves, October's hands were completely numb. She was shivering violently. The night away from the Cornucopia had been hell, and she was still attempting to recover from it. The chill that had settled deep in her bones refused to thaw, and she felt as though no matter how many layers she put on, she'd still be freezing for the rest of her life.

"I'm tired," she said aloud. Moving her legs grew less and less appealing, and she slowed down a bit. She wondered why Cedar hadn't been affected like she had been by that night. It was probably his stocky build. He had more fat to retain heat within.

"Don't care," Cedar replied, not even looking back as his ally fell farther and farther behind. He broke through the trees and continued towards the lakeshore. There was a slight cliff where they stood, the land rising five meters above the surface of the lake. He sat down on a boulder, lazily turning the handle of his mace around and around in his palm.

October dragged herself up to him. Her shivers were so frequent that they appeared to be almost perpetual, making her look as though she had a tremor of sorts. "So you think they'll just find us here?" she asked Cedar, referring to Wren and Acton. He nodded, still mesmerized by his weapon. October sat down beside him, closer to the lake than he was, and leaned her axe against the rock. "I think maybe I'll take a nap, then," she said, leaning back and closing her eyes.

Everything happened very quickly.

Cedar jumped to his feet, swinging his mace over his head and slamming it down into October's stomach. She shrieked and tried to grab for her axe, but Cedar had anticipated this. He attacked her right hand with his weapon, the spikes tearing her flesh into ribbons. She screamed again, clutching the hand that was no longer numb but on fire, bleeding heavily and making her mind feel foggy. Before she could attempt to move, her legs still numb and her stomach aching terribly, Cedar dropped his mace and shoved her off the cliff with all his might.

The water was warm. That was the first thing she noticed. She crashed through it, the impact making her feel like she might rip in half. She didn't feel numb anymore, but instead her entire body was filled with a curious tingling sensation. Her heavy winter clothes dragged her down farther and farther. Above her she could see her blood creating swirls and patterns in the water. It looked beautiful, like art, if she was being honest. Her lungs burned for air. She attempted to swim upwards, but she was too weak to do so with her soaking wet clothes weighing her down. Her right hand was completely out of commission. She was fairly certain that Cedar had shattered several bones. She tried to unzip her jacket with her left hand, but the zipper was stuck. It always got stuck. She needed to hold it taught with her other hand in order to unzip it, but she had no other hand to do so.

Before she could stop herself, she opened her mouth. She was so desperate for oxygen. The water flooded into her mouth and she tried to gag but there was nothing but more water. Her vision was black at the edges and she felt ground beneath her. She was so far down she could hardly see the surface. It was dark, and if she turned over she wouldn't be able to tell if her vision was failing or it was simply too dark to see.

Her brain felt foggy. She closed her eyes, her limbs feeling numb with the lack of oxygenated blood. Her thoughts faded from her head. She could hardly feel the pain in her stomach or her hand anymore. An inky black embrace folded around her.

Aboveground, a cannon fired.


	30. Gut Feeling

Levi hoisted himself up onto the low branch of a snowy tree and made himself comfortable. The other tributes could be anywhere in the Arena. He figured he'd have some time to kill before his teammates showed up.

The whole team situation made the tribute from District 11 uneasy. He didn't believe for one second that the Gamemakers were going to let more than one tribute out alive. His gut feeling was that as soon as all the tributes from the other group were dead, they'd be forced to turn on each other. He wasn't worried about killing Willow and Chester. They were weak-stomached and mediocre. It was Zephyr that concerned him. The guy was a year younger than him though much taller. Levi could remember hearing that Zephyr had also grown up without a family. He was a wildcard. He'd hardly said a word during his interview and he always kept to himself.

A cannon fired and Levi jumped, nearly tumbling off of his perch. There were seven other tributes, but his mind jumped immediately to October. He quickly ran over the facts in his head. Cedar was his initial pick, but he supposed that it was possible that Wren was the killer. October had told him that they'd come across her by the northern lake, so she could have made it there already and taken out her spite on October before Cedar could calm her down. But that didn't seem likely.

He refused to believe any theory other than that Cedar had killed October because she was the biggest threat in his group. He could lie to his teammates and say she fell or got attacked by a muttation or something so they wouldn't pin him as a traitor. He was clever.

He was also dead meat.

Levi had vowed to tear Cedar to pieces if he killed October, and now he had his chance. He slipped into his thoughts, imagining sawing the chubby boy's arms off with his dullest knife before cutting through his legs at an agonizingly slow pace. Once his limbs were no longer attached to his body he would draw a line across Cedar's neck. Not deep enough to kill him, no, just deep enough to leave a stinging line of blood. Then he would drive his deepest dagger through the boy's heart. He would enjoy the look of utter agony on Cedar's face. He deserved it. He did.

Footsteps startled Levi out of his murderous thoughts. Without thinking, he jumped to the ground and drew a knife, taking a defensive stance as he faced the direction of the sound. Zephyr materialized from behind a tree. He put his hands behind his head, smiling a twisted kind of smile. "I thought we were in this together," he said in a rumbly voice Levi would have associated with a middle-aged man.

"Sorry," Levi muttered, lowering his knife. "I'm a bit on edge is all."

Zephyr nodded, taking a couple steps forward. A quiver was strapped to his back along with a bow. "Do you have any supplies?" he asked.

_Supplies_. Levi sighed. "I only have my knives on me. We can go back to the Cornucopia and get some if you'd like. We'll have to be quick. Cedar and October aren't technically my allies anymore.

The taller tribute nodded. Levi began to jog down the path he had created on his way over. Zephyr followed after him, his longer legs making it easy to keep pace. It wasn't long before they reached the Cornucopia. The clearing was blissfully empty. Levi headed over to the pile of supplies. "October packed emergency backpacks," he explained, taking out three navy blue bags. "Each one has a sleeping bag, matches, water container, iodine tablets, beef jerky, and dried fruit in it. Do we want anything else?"

"A flashlight could be helpful," Zephyr mused. Levi dug around through the supplies and produced two flashlights. "Netting, if you have any. Other than that, we should be good. We have to hope that Willow and Chester have supplies. Also, is there an extra pair of gloves?" Levi stuffed a net into one of the bags and then sifted through the remaining things. He shook his head.

"No gloves."

"Shit." Zephyr flexed his fingers. They barely bent at all. The skin was dry and cracked. Levi wrinkled his nose. "Haven't been able to hold my bow in days."

"We should be going," Levi said awkwardly, looking away. Zephyr nodded. Levi picked up two of the packs and began to head back. His teammate took the other, following him back to their meeting place. The walk was slower now that they weren't worried about the other team getting valuable supplies. After a minute of walking Levi asked, "Should we maybe just secure the Cornucopia? We'd have all the supplies and sleeping would be much better."

Zephyr shook his head. "It'll end too quickly if we do, and the Gamemakers won't like that. They won't let us hole up in the Cornucopia. They'll give us hell if we do."

They continued on in silence, Levi cursing himself for not thinking his question through. He didn't want Zephyr to be the alpha male of the group. He was okay with taking the backseat to October, but the District 8 boy worried him. The guy wasn't messing around. With his hands injured as they were Levi was safe, but what about when they were fully functional? Levi had no doubt that Zephyr would come across gloves soon enough, be it an extra pair belonging to Willow and Chester or a sponsor gift. Then the real danger would come.

When they reached the meeting place there was no sign of their other two teammates. Levi cleared a small patch of ground and dumped the supplies there before climbing back into his tree and sitting there, waiting. He didn't feel like talking to Zephyr. He didn't trust him.

Despite the fact that the snow had stopped it was colder than ever. Levi cross his arms over his chest and pulled his knees up, struggling to balance. He nearly toppled over, so he stretched his legs back out again, shivering. The sunlight offered little warmth. For a second he felt bad for Zephyr with his bare hands, but Levi pushed the thought from his head. He wasn't going to feel sorry for his biggest competition. Anything that weakened him was an advantage.

Voices wafted towards them from the lakeside. Levi glanced at Zephyr to see him staring in the direction of the noise. He didn't miss things, either.

"…can't be much farther. Unless they ditched us, which I suppose could happen, but I don't think the Gamemakers would be too thrilled."

Willow and Chester were walking along the water. They lazily searched the trees, but it was clear that they were tired. It had to have been at least a few hours since the announcement. Clearing his throat, Zephyr called out, "Nice of you to join us!"

Both of their heads snapped to face him, no longer fatigued but extremely alert. Zephyr waved teasingly and they relaxed. Chester smiled a little, though Willow's face was impossible to read. They slowly carved a path through the snow to where Levi and Zephyr waited. They were both carrying packs, which was good. Chester set his down with the three that had been brought from the Cornucopia, but Willow kept hers on her back, fists closed protectively around the straps.

"Hi!" Chester chirped. Levi grunted and Zephyr gave him a nod. The red-headed boy's smile faltered but he plastered it back on. "So, teams," he continued. "Pretty weird, right?"

Zephyr shrugged. "It's the Hunger Games."

"Right, right…"

A silence fell over the four tributes. Levi stayed up in his tree, sizing up Willow and Chester when they weren't looking and staring straight ahead when they were. Zephyr was examining his almost completely frozen hands. Willow cleared a small area at the base of one of the trees and sat down. Chester plopped down beside her and wrapped an arm around her. She grabbed his hand in both of hers and leaned against his shoulder.

They looked so happy. Levi had to marvel at it. As the Games wore on he just felt more and more sick of everything. But these two were madly in love. They were facing the Arena together, no doubt hoping to make it out together. Snuggled up at the base of a tree they could have been anywhere. They could have been in the Districts. They didn't look like tributes that were fighting even the weather to stay alive. They looked like people.

Levi wished that October was with him. The more that he watched Willow and Chester, the more he wanted his own person to huddle up with. Zephyr didn't exactly seem to be snuggle material. Levi hoped with every fiber of his being that October was still alive. He needed her to still be alive. He didn't want to be facing the Arena alone. He wanted an ally. A real ally. Not like Zephyr who was only teamed up with him out of force. Not like Cedar who only put up with him for the safety of the "Career" alliance. Someone like October who actually gave a damn about him.

"Look!" Willow said, her soft voice sounding loud in the utter silence. Levi looked lazily to where she was pointing and then quickly jumped to the ground. Floating towards them was a fairly large silver capsule attached to a parachute. Levi walked towards it, his arms outstretched. It was heavier than he expected, and he had to take a step back to balance himself as it settled into his hands.

"What do you think it is?" Chester asked eagerly.

"With any luck, a bazooka," Zephyr said, laughing a little at his own joke.

"Sorry, mate," Levi said, lifting the metal lid off. Inside were four bulky fur hats with ear flaps and four pairs of heavy duty gloves. "But your hands might be happy."

Zephyr crammed the gloves on his hands. "Damn that's good," he said.

Levi watched him uneasily. His hands would be better by morning. Then the Games would really begin.


	31. Tense

Willow was huddled up with Chester. Her pack was still on her back despite how uncomfortable it was. She didn't trust Levi or Zephyr. They terrified her, though she wasn't going to tell anyone that. She heavily suspected that they would turn on her and Chester the first chance they got, and she didn't want to make herself vulnerable.

It was wickedly cold. The sponsor gifts had helped, but Willow still had a permanent chill that she couldn't shake. What she wanted desperately was a heavy quilt and a mug of hot chocolate or tea. She was tired of the cold. She wanted to go home. She missed her sisters no matter how much grief they gave her. She wanted to be there for them. Her father wouldn't be, and she didn't think that they were capable of taking care of each other.

"Maybe we should set up a shelter or something before it gets dark," Chester suggested, breaking the silence. Levi looked up from sharpening his knives and nodded.

"We can dig a bit into the ground where you are. The ground retains a little heat. Then we can build sides and maybe a bit of a roof with fallen branches…" Levi trailed off, lost in thought.

Chester stood up and walked to the pile of supplies. "Willow and I have a tent," he said, taking it out of his pack. "It barely fits three people, though."

"No, that's perfect," Zephyr interjected. "We're going to need the fourth person to keep watch, anyway."

"We should still construct a bit of a shelter, though," Levi said. "So the person keeping watch will be a little warmer." The other three nodded. "Right, then. Chester and Willow will get to work digging out the area and setting up the tent while Zephyr and I look for branches."

Willow stood up, finally relinquishing her hold on her backpack. She watched Levi and Zephyr disappear before setting down her bag with the others and turning to face Chester. He gave her a smile which she returned for a moment before frowning again.

"Something wrong?" Chester asked.

She shrugged. "I'm just worried," she murmured. "I don't want to talk about it. In case they hear." She didn't think Chester would understand, at any rate. The boy trusted too much. He probably believed that more than one tribute would win the Games. Willow couldn't bring herself to have that kind of hope. And sharing a tent with her future killers wasn't exactly her ideal sleeping arrangement.

Chester nodded in understanding. Without a word, Willow brushed past him and started widening the dent that she and Chester had made in the snow. It'd have to at least triple in size as well as go deeper, past the leaf litter and into the dirt. Chester worked alongside her. The task was familiar after days in the frozen Arena. It didn't take long before they had cleared an area a few meters long and a couple meters wide. The wall of snow around the open dirt was four feet tall, possibly more. They had also cleared a thin gateway into the ring.

They brought the tent over and set it up directly in front of the tree. Just as they finished, Levi and Zephyr reappeared, each with several large branches in tow. Together, the four of them strategically built an arch over the tent. Levi wove smaller branches into the gaps until the roof was fairly solid. He took the leaf litter that Chester and Willow had dug up and sprinkled it over the roof. If it started snowing again, anything that got through the branches of the tree above wouldn't reach the tent.

Dusk had settled over the Arena by the time they had finished. Zephyr had just opened his mouth to say something when the Capitol anthem began to play. Levi's head snapped up to watch the sky. Willow watched him curiously before fixing her own gaze on the inky blue sky. After the insignia of the Capitol faded from view, a picture of the girl from District 10 took its place. October. Levi made a small noise before clamping his mouth shut and hardening his face into a steely mask. Willow tried to give him a sympathetic look but he refused to make eye contact.

Willow knew that October had been Levi's ally, and she had speculated that there was something more to their relationship. She knew that October and Levi had both grown up without families. Their prickly personalities led her to believe that they hadn't had many friends, if any at all, either. It was kind of romantic in a twisted way, really. Two kids who had never had anyone, suddenly thrown together in the fight to survive. There had to be at least a little romance there. Maybe not enough, since the Gamemakers didn't put them together, but it was possible that they'd been too shy to show it.

And now she was dead.

"Are you okay?" Willow asked Levi quietly.

"Grand," he responded in a clipped tone.

"It's just that she was your al—"

"Grand," he repeated.

She bit her lip. Chester shrugged. Zephyr cleared his throat. Levi stared off into the distance, his expression unreadable. After a few minutes, Zephyr spoke up.

"We should probably start working on a plan to kill the others," he ventured. This caught Levi's attention. The District 11 tribute nodded. "Okay," Zephyr continued. "We need to pool our knowledge on the three of them and then figure out how to proceed."

"Cedar was my ally," Levi said. His voice sounded completely normal. Willow was amazed at his acting skills. Or maybe he really never cared for October at all. "He has a vicious temper and hates it when things don't go his way. Every step is a struggle when working with that boy. He's always trying to prove himself. I don't know why."

"Okay," Zephyr mused. "I watched Wren and her ally for a while before I killed Newt. She's smart and fairly arrogant from what I observed. She's also not too quick to trust. Even days into her alliance with Newt she would wake up every couple hours in the night and look around as though she was surprised that she was still alive."

Chester spoke up next. "And of course, we all know Acton." This was true. It was impossible to forget the striking and, Willow hated to admit it, sexy boy from District 3. He was so unbelievably cocky for his apparent IQ level. Willow was honestly surprised that he had survived so long. Of course, he had been allied with the gorgeous girl from District 2. She had brains. They probably made a pretty impressive team. She briefly wondered what killed Anja.

"That's great," Zephyr said to no one in particular. When he caught Willow's confused gaze, he elaborated. "It's a recipe for friendly fire. Wren and Cedar will both be scrambling to be leader. I doubt they trust each other, and they're going to wind up killing each other in no time. And then there's Acton, who's just a complete idiot as far as we know. I doubt it's an act. He's just an arrogant pretty boy that doesn't belong in a place like this. I say we wait a day and see if anything interesting happens. And if it doesn't, well, we'll make something interesting happen."

The other three nodded in agreement. Willow felt a little better knowing that they had a plan to attack the other team. She sensed that neither Zephyr nor Levi would want to create conflict too early in their own group. If Wren and Cedar worked out their differences they'd be quite the dynamic duo, based on the descriptions Zephyr and Levi had offered. Four against two would be better than two tributes that didn't trust each other not to kill them the second they turned their head against a formidable pair.

"I'll take first watch," Levi offered. It was dark, but in the light of the moon Willow could still make out his features.

"I'll take last watch," Zephyr said with a yawn.

"Second, then," Chester shrugged.

"Third," Willow said despite the fact that she knew that it went without saying.

Levi nodded. He sat down outside the tent, staring straight ahead. Willow wondered if he would cry. Probably not, if he thought the cameras could see him. He'd been so strong through everything. It'd be a shame to ruin his image, Willow supposed.

She crawled into the tent and curled up in the corner. She didn't want to be the one to sleep next to Zephyr. It was pointless, since she'd have to sleep next to Levi later on anyway, but she figured she'd sleep better for the first few hours with no one but Chester by her side.

Just before she dozed off, Chester kissed her forehead. "We're going to get through this, okay?" he whispered in her ear. She nodded slightly. As much as she wanted to, she didn't trust him anymore. She didn't trust the Gamemakers to let up to four tributes win, and she certainly didn't trust her older teammates not to tear her to pieces.


	32. Friendly Fire

"We should camp here."

"No, we shouldn't."

"Here is _fine_."

"No, it's not. It's completely exposed," Wren said with a sigh, gesturing hopelessly to the bare clump of bushes. "We may as well sleep in the middle of an open field. If anything comes by it'll see us immediately, be it muttation or tribute."

"I'm _tired_," Cedar shot back.

"Then _you_ can sleep here. Acton and I will find somewhere better."

"What makes you think you know better than I do?"

"Because I do," Wren spat. "I survived all these days in this weather just fine. I didn't have to hole up in the Cornucopia like _someone_ I can name. I think I'm a little more experienced in the matter."

Cedar lifted a hand as though to grab his mace, but then stopped. Acton watched apprehensively. His teammates had been fighting almost non-stop since he had arrived. The twelve-year-old had told them that October had been delirious with hypothermia and had stumbled over the edge of the cliff and into the lake before he could save her. There was no blood or significant signs of a struggle, so Acton believed him. Wren, however, refused to buy the story, pinning Cedar as a traitor and a liar.

It had only gone downhill from there.

They bickered over everything from how to ration Wren's food to who got to lead the way to who had done better in the Arena despite the fact that they were both in the top seven. They had eventually settled on going northwest, towards Wren's old camp. They didn't want to get too far away or else the Gamemakers would use unwanted means to flush them back towards the other group, but they figured a bit of distance wouldn't hurt.

Acton was beginning to get a headache from listening to the pair of them, but he was afraid of saying anything. He was afraid of them turning on him. He was much taller and more muscular than the both of them, but he wasn't sure if he had the brains to beat them in a fight. Despite what Anja had told him, he knew that he wasn't brilliant. He had brute strength, sure, but would that be enough to make him a Victor?

"Here is good," Wren announced after they had walked for a while longer. They stood in front of a willow tree. Many of the small leaves had wilted, leaving strings of crinkly brown ornaments that turned to dust when touched.

"How is this better?" Cedar asked crossly. "The leaves don't provide any cover."

"There's a patch of evergreen shrubs behind the trunk," Willow explained. "Those will provide plenty of cover on their own. In the dead of night if anyone shifts or gets up, it'll appear like the tresses have shifted. Most of the ones back there are still intact, at any rate, so as long as no one touches them it'll just be another layer of cover."

Cedar had no retort to this. Wren lifted her chin superiorly and led the way to the evergreen bushes. They were a few feet tall, half of them inside the circle of the willow's branches and half of them outside. The outer ones were bigger, probably because they got more sun. It created a protective barrier. The shorter ones barely cleared the snow. Wren pushed past the first bush and turned, waving Acton and Cedar towards her. She stood in a small clearing. It was a meter or so across and definitely not long enough for Acton to lie down in without curling up, which wasn't such a big deal since it was too cold to lie flat. The quarters would be close.

"We need to clear it out, of course, but that won't take long," Wren added. The three quickly got to work, tossing the excess snow over the bushes and effectively covering up the branches that had survived being buried by the snow earlier on in the Games. It was only a matter of minutes before they stood in a circle of dirt rather than snow.

"I don't think we need a watch system," Wren said, sitting down. "We're well-hidden here. The others probably won't find us, and muttations would rob the Capitol of a good show." Acton shrugged and Cedar nodded.

Acton laid down, setting his sword under the branches of the bush beside him. It was well in reach, which comforted him. He curled up slightly, shivering. He missed his nights under the rose bushes with Anja. He missed snuggling up with her and pretending he wasn't in the Games anymore. He missed the feeling of security that she gave him.

It was a long time before he managed to fall asleep. It was hard to settle down with shivers tearing through his body. It was bitterly cold. The periodic hooting of an owl kept frightening him into complete consciousness. Eventually, though, exhaustion from walking through the snow all day took over and he slipped into the dark.

He dreamt of Anja. She was whole, both physically and mentally. She was no longer plagued by frostbite and hypothermia. She was bright and teasing, just as she had been when Acton had first met her on the train. For a while Acton just stared at her, taking in every detail. God, he missed her. He'd never cared for a girl before in the way that he cared for her. He used to toy with girls, playing with them until he got bored and then finding a new one. But Anja was different. He was wholly captivated by her. Of course she had to be the one he couldn't have no matter how badly he wanted her.

After a while, Anja opened her mouth to say something. Her lips were still stained a perfect red color, giving her the appearance of a doll. Acton leaned forward slightly. More than anything, he missed her voice. He'd always have pictures of her if he became a Victor, but his only memory of her voice would be the stiff, scripted lines from her interview. He missed her easy cadence and girlish laughter.

But that was not what he heard.

Shrieking blared from Anja's mouth. Her face twisted into the face of a demon, features no longer perfect but dark and cracked. Acton staggered backwards in fear, but he couldn't take his eyes off her. _Wake up, wake up, wake____UP_, he thought frantically. He found the will to squeeze his eyes shut, but he could still hear screaming. He opened his eyes.

This was no dream.

He grabbed his sword and rolled to the side, standing up smoothly and backing away through the bushes. Cedar was standing over Wren. Her left side was bleeding heavily. With considerable effort, Wren kicked upwards, striking Cedar in the crotch with her shin. The boy screamed, dropping his mace in agony. Wren took the opportunity to wriggle out from under him and grab her bow and arrows. She quickly fired an arrow at his neck, but he moved aside just in time. Blood was dripping relentlessly from Wren's side.

With a war cry, Wren backed up through the bushes opposite Acton and fired another arrow at Cedar. This one struck him in his right hand. The head of the arrow went at least halfway through the District 12 tribute's dominant hand. Acton ducked down, afraid of getting hit by a misfired arrow. Even if the two weren't both already wounded beyond repair, he wouldn't have stepped in. They would have killed him. It was better this way.

Cedar tore the arrow out of his hand, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood in an effort not to scream again. He tried to pick his mace up with his right hand, but the muscles wouldn't work properly. He grabbed it with his left hand instead, giving it a test swing before turning on Wren. She already had another arrow ready. She fired at his neck just as he attacked her skull. His movement forwards caused the arrow to pierce his eye instead. The loudest yell yet escaped his lips and he staggered backwards, clutching at his face. The arrow had no doubt at least slightly damaged his frontal lobe.

But this injury was child's play compared to Wren's. She was curled up in the snow. By the moonlight Acton could see that the right half of her face was bloodied and torn from the blow Cedar had dealt. Her eye had been obliterated, and the light reflected eerily off of shattered pieces of bone. Acton grimaced and looked away. Her writhing was slowing down. The combined blood loss from her side and head was no doubt intense. It wouldn't be long before her cannon fired.

Looking back to Cedar, it seemed like he didn't know what to do about the arrow lodged in his skull. Animalistic noises were emanating from his mouth. He gave the weapon an experimental tug and let loose a pained moan. Blood leaked down his face. His right hand had gone completely limp. Wren's cannon fired. Cedar's wouldn't be long after.

Acton stayed crouched in the bushes. He hated watching Cedar in so much pain, but he couldn't bring himself to look away. Blood pooled onto the dirt. He grew quieter, his groans less frequent. Eventually, he stopped moving all together. He merely lay there, whimpering occasionally. After a long while, his cannon finally fired.

Sitting down in the snow, Acton took stock of his situation. October, Wren, and Cedar were all dead. He had the supplies Wren had in her backpack plus his sword. He had no use for the bow and arrows or the mace. But he took little comfort in these facts.

He was in the final five, and it was four against one.


	33. Loyalties

Chester's eyes snapped open and he sat up, looking around wildly. _Must have been a cannon_, he thought darkly. Levi and Zephyr were both inside with him. He carefully crawled over to the entrance and unzipped it slightly, just enough to see Willow sitting a few feet away, shivering.

_Alive_.

Breathing a quiet sigh of relief, Chester closed the tent and laid back down, hoping he didn't wake his teammates. It was still cold despite the tent, the sponsor clothes, and the faint body heat they all still managed to emit. He wished he hadn't woken up. Falling asleep again would be nearly impossible. The cannon had scared him awake and he hardly felt sleepy anymore. But he knew he needed the rest, so he closed his eyes and tried to focus on nothing but his breathing. The steady pattern of his breaths had nearly lulled him to rest when another cannon sent a jolt of panic through his body.

There had been no sounds of a struggle outside, but he couldn't stop himself from peeking outside to see if Willow was okay. Once he confirmed that she was, he settled back down to try and sleep again. There was only one tribute left from the other group. If Levi and Zephyr had speculated correctly, it'd be Acton. It almost seemed too easy. Chester smiled as he curled up in an attempt to sleep.

Maybe he'd be home tomorrow night…

"Wake up!" Willow said, shaking Chester lightly. Levi was already sitting up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Chester propped himself up on his elbows and yawned.

"Morning," he greeted tiredly, blinking at the bright light that filtered in through the open tent flap. "Where's Zephyr?" he asked.

"That's the problem," Willow responded, biting her lip. "He's missing."

Chester rubbed his right eye with the heel of his head blearily. "What?"

"When I woke up this morning he was gone," Willow said. "I'm not sure which way he went. The top of the snow is frozen, so with the right footing you can walk on top of it instead of making a new path. I guess there's probably evidence somewhere."

"Maybe he just went to pick off the last tribute in the other group for us," Chester mused.

"What?" Levi asked.

Willow filled him in. "Two cannons fired last night during my watch. I guess they woke Chester up. Since we're all still alive, it was the other group. I don't know who, though."

"I hope Cedar's the one left," Levi muttered.

"Why?" Chester asked.

"I owe him a dismemberment."

Chester looked at Willow, who shrugged and headed outside. Chester followed after her, stretching his stiff limbs. While Willow began to lay out a small breakfast, Chester surveyed the snow. Willow was right—a hard crust had formed over the loose powder. It didn't look like there were any footprints around, so Zephyr must have left through the entryway. Tracking him would take some effort, if he even needed tracking.

Levi scooped up his meal from in front of Willow and shoved it into his pocket. "I'm going to follow Zephyr."

"Why?" Chester asked, an accusatory edge in his voice.

"Calm your farm," Levi sighed, taking a bite of his breakfast. "Just to see what he's up to. And, like I said, if Cedar's the one left alive I want to be the one to kill him.

A shiver cause Chester to tremble, and he wasn't sure if it was out of cold or fear. "Well what if I don't believe you? What if I think you two are plotting against us and you're just trying to escape with him? Willow and I aren't useless like you think we are, you know. We survived just as long as you did."

With another sigh, Levi turned to face Chester, his grey eyes dark. "Listen to me, kid. Personally, I don't care whether you live or die, okay?" The redhead from District 8 flinched. "But we're in this together, at least for now. I'm not buying this team business, but I could be wrong, and I won't kill you just because you're there. I know that you want to get out of this Arena just as much as everyone else, and four of us can get out then I'm not going to take that away from you. I'm not that much of a heartless bastard. If we can both win then that's fantastic, I'll gladly share it with you. You just have to trust me, okay? I'm going to follow Zephyr. I want to kill the last member of the remaining team if I can. Then we'll see what happens. Understand?"

Chester nodded meekly.

"Good," Levi said. "With any luck, we'll be out of here by tonight." Without waiting for Chester or Willow to say anything, he stormed out of the clearing, a knife in one hand and a piece of dried meat in the other. Chester watched him go, his mouth slightly open in shock. The crunching of Levi's footsteps carried out for maybe a minute before they final faded. Finally, Chester turned to face Willow.

"I feel bad letting them do all the work of getting us out of the Arena."

Willow put down her food. "Chester," she said quietly, "you don't actually believe they're going to let there be four Victors, do you?"

"Well, I mean," he stammered, "they _said_ there could be."

"Yeah, but you remember what happened in the 74th Games, don't you? They did it to play up the romance between Katniss and Peeta. The Capitol citizens were crazy about them, so the Gamemakers just exploited that. But only Katniss escaped with her life."

"So then why have teams now? What's the incentive?"

She shrugged. "I dunno. To set our Arena apart from the last one where a bunch of people froze to death. They need to keep things interesting or they'll be the laughingstock of the Capitol. We're just playthings, Chester. It's a game."

"I just…I wanted to believe that we could make it out together, you know? Or make it out at all, for that matter. I don't want to die here, Willow," Chester said, tears in his pleading eyes. "Okay? That's it. I don't want to die here. I'm fourteen for _fuck's_ sake. Sorry about my language," he added when he noticed her scandalized expression. "I just always maintained hope that maybe, just _maybe_ I could actually get out of here. But I don't really want to have a future if that future doesn't involve you. Is that ridiculous and clichéd? Yes. I know it is. But I don't care. So I'm going to hold on to what the Gamemakers told us, even if no one else will."

"Maybe we can still make it out," Willow suggested lamely. "I guess it's pretty far-fetched to say that we can both get out. But one of us, maybe."

"I'll kill myself if we get to the final two.

"No," Willow said immediately.

"Why not? You deserve to win."

"You do, too."

"But you have your sisters."

"You have your parents."

"That's different. My parents will survive without me. But your sisters? What if your dad never pulls his weight as a father? What if they can't take care of themselves?"

"The District will watch out for them. They wouldn't let them die. I hope."

Chester fell silent for a few moments. "So then what happens if we're the final two?"

"We refuse to kill each other and see what the Gamemakers do. We are an experiment, after all."

He gave her a curious look. "What do you mean?"

"Well, isn't it obvious?" Willow asked. "And you're supposed to be the smart one," she added with a little smile before continuing. "They're seeing how cold it can get before we die. Well, not really. That'd be too simple. They want to see how cold it can get before we stop being interesting. You know, how adrenaline works in this temperature and such. We're not just tributes. We're lab rats."

"I'm honored," Chester laughed nervously, attempting to disguise how scared he was.

The fact was that his life—everyone's lives—was so finite. Not just because everyone is mortal, but because the Capitol never let anyone live once they decided they wanted them dead. Chester was doomed to die ever since he had been reaped. It was plain and simple. The skinny redhead boy had no chance at becoming a Victor. It was a miracle he was even in the final five. The fact of the matter was that he'd be dead soon and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

So he took three steps forward and kissed Willow. Who knew how many chances he had left?


	34. Going, Going, Gone

Zephyr's height and muscle weight had made it difficult for him to tread across the snow without leaving a mark. Levi followed his trail with relative ease. Faint footprints were indented in the icy snow. Occasionally he would come across a place where the snow had broken and one of Zephyr's feet had plunged downwards. Levi carefully edged around these places, not in the mood for a bootful of snow.

He tracked his teammate slowly. He wanted to be able to watch Zephyr without him being aware of his presence. He depended on the element of surprise.

The trail wound past the Cornucopia and into the stretch of land between the northern and western lakes. Levi was just beginning to think that he was following the wrong set of footprints when he heard shuffling up ahead. He scampered over to the nearest tree and pressed his back up against it, peeking around warily.

Acton was facing away from him. He stared curiously up at the branches of a tree as if he had heard a peculiar noise from it. Levi watched as Zephyr stepped out from behind a row of bushes and fired an arrow into the back of the District 3 tribute's neck. Acton collapsed with a small noise of pain. Levi drew in a deep breath and pushed himself back against the tree. No, he couldn't be a coward. Not now. He turned again to see Zephyr fishing his arrow out of Acton's neck. Acton flailed his sword weakly, but his attacker easily dodged the weapon. Zephyr busied himself with cleaning the blood off the arrow. He then re-inserted it into his quiver and simply stood there while Acton bled to death.

Eventually, the cannon fired.

Levi watched Zephyr apprehensively. A minute passed. Two. Zephyr shrugged and sighed. So that was it. Just as Levi had guessed, the Gamemakers had never meant for there to be four Victors.

"Hello, tributes!" Livia's voice greeted, the sound booming around the Arena. Levi flinched. He hadn't been expecting the Gamemakers to send them any message at all. Maybe all four of them _would_ get out alive. "Congratulations on making it to the final four! Unfortunately, we have decided that having four tributes from different Districts become Victors would be a financial disaster, and have thus reached the conclusion that it is better for only one tribute to win. My best to you all, and may the odds be ever in your favor!"

Zephyr wrinkled his nose. "Of course," he muttered just loud enough for Levi to hear. He began to head east. Levi guessed that he was planning to circle back to camp and pick off the tributes left there. Without thinking, Levi drew a dagger from his belt and whirled out from behind the tree. Zephyr didn't hear him. The boy from District 11 took careful aim and launched his knife at the dark-haired boy that was several meters away from him.

The dagger caught its target in the back of the head. It sliced through the thick sponsor hat and slammed into Zephyr's skull with a satisfying crack that made Levi wince. For good measure, he sent another dagger at his former teammate. This one burrowed its way into his upper back. Zephyr collapsed forward with a gurgling cough. The icy snow gave way at the weight of his fall and he fell a couple feet through the snow to the ground.

A smile crept across Levi's face. His biggest competition was dead. He would find Chester and Willow. He'd kill them like he killed Zephyr. It would be easy. He could go home.

He could actually go home.

As he knelt down beside the hole in the snow to retrieve his knives, however, he found his mind focusing more on October than on his home. Sure, District 11 would be loads better now that he'd be rich and he wouldn't have to work in the fields all day, but the thought of never seeing October made him feel sick. Or was that the blood pooling around Zephyr that made him nauseous? He felt like the massive fence surrounding District 11 would suffocate him. More than ever he felt that he would have to escape Panem if he managed to make it out a Victor.

With considerable effort, Levi pulled his knives from Zephyr's body. Just as he straightened up, the cannon fired. He couldn't wait to get out of the Arena. He'd make quick work of killing the others. He was tired of the cold. He shoved his knives back into his belt and started walking. Once he was out of the small strip of land between the lakes he'd go east. He'd circle back to camp and if Willow and Chester were gone he'd track them and kill them before they knew what was going on. If they were there, well, the sooner he won the better.

Levi abandoned the careful gait he had adopted earlier. He found that he was light enough to walk normally across the frozen snow without fear of crashing through. The area that he was walking through was unfamiliar, but he didn't take any precautions. Everywhere looked basically the same, anyway. The terrain was a little uneven, but it wasn't a big deal. All he could focus on was the prospect of home. The prospect of escape.

Slowly, he began to devise his plan. He figured that the trains couldn't go forever: they'd have to stop for fuel. Who would notice if he packed up a bag and sprinted away? Surely they couldn't stop him from going outside for air. He'd disappear before anyone noticed what was going on and then he'd be gone. He'd make it to the edge, to the ocean. He'd make a boat and get the hell away. He'd be an inspiration. He'd inspire rebellions. After telling his new home about Panem they would help to end the madness. He could end the Hunger Games.

Unless, of course, the places he found were even worse than Panem.

Was that possible? Could there be a government system worse than that of Panem? Were there things worse than the Hunger Games? Or maybe other places had adopted the Games. Maybe the next Quell would be an intercontinental event. And then, of course, there was the possibility that there was nothing beyond Panem at all, and Levi would simply sail around the ocean and end up on the other side, where authorities would be waiting to capture him.

But Levi didn't have much time to contemplate the answers to all the questions ringing around in his head. Before he knew what was happening the snow had given way beneath him. He stumbled forward, attempting to keep from falling, but this only caused him to tumble forward and skid down the slope, making indents in the ice all the way down.

There was a small drop-off at the bottom of the hill, and he fell a couple feet down to the ground. His body broke through the icy layer of snow and he plummeted through four, five, six feet of the powder. _It must have piled up during one of the blizzards_, he thought dazedly. He floundered around, attempting to get back on his feet. _How difficult could it be?_ He kicked his left leg around, trying to find ground, but it was clear that the drift was deeper than he had thought. His right leg was sticking out at an awkward angle, and the weight of the snow was too much. He couldn't get it to be parallel with his left no matter how much effort he put into it. He tried to jump up and grab the icy layer that was a foot above him, but it was impossible to jump with his right leg immobilized. The snow shifted and spilled onto his shoulders, obscuring his face. He realized how tired he was. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to stop flailing around. His arms hurt from trying to push through the snow.

He slowed, closing his eyes. He wasn't destined to win the Games. To leave Panem. It was silly of him to ever believe that the system could be changed. It was cold. The snow had rubbed his cheeks raw in the struggle. He wasn't built for the cold. He missed District 11, oddly enough. But more than that, he missed October. He didn't really believe in the afterlife, but if there was one he looked forward to spending it with the fallen girl from District 10.

Numbness swept through his body. It was too cold. Nothing could survive encased in snow at such a frigid temperature. Levi's mind felt foggy. He knew the end was coming. He gave a last half-hearted attempt at reaching the surface, but he couldn't find it in himself to move his limbs. They not only felt numb, but almost like they weren't there at all. His head was full of clouds. A wave rose up and he didn't try to resist. He let it wash over him, wiping his thoughts away.

Not far off, Willow and Chester paled as they heard the cannon fire.

They were the final two.


	35. Oblivion

Chester and Willow held each other's gaze for a long time. Chester took in every detail of her face. Her dark brown hair. Her ice blue eyes. Her features, sharp and gaunt. The Arena had done nothing to improve her skinny appearance that bordered on dangerous. She had a freckle under her left eye. A small zit on her chin. Her nose was small and perfect. Her cheeks were bright red with cold. Her lips were dry and cracked, but they had a nice shape. She had long eyelashes. Nice eyebrows. God, he would miss her.

For most of their time in the Arena Chester had been unable to read her expression. It was clear now, though. Her eyes were wide and scared. Her mouth frowned slightly. She looked on the verge of tears. They both knew that before long one of them would be dead. Chester wanted the last thing he saw to be her. He closed the distance between them and pressed his forehead against hers. Their hats got in the way, and Willow smiled a little bit and the face Chester made.

They grew serious again. Chester found her hands and held them, though their gloves made it awkward. It was so cold. She looked so scared. Chester had to end it. He needed her to go home. He gently extracted his right hand from hers and reached for his knife. He took one step back before she realized what he was doing.

"You promised!" she accused, her expression no longer scared but hurt and upset.

"Willow, you don't understand—"

"You _promised_!" she screeched, her voice high pitched.

"They want a show, Willow," Chester said harshly. "They're not going to be happy if we just stand here. They're going to do something horrible. At least this way is quick."

"No," she said forcefully, grabbing for the knife. Chester moved it out of reach and she pouted. "Let them kill us. Let them pick. I can't just stand here while you commit suicide, Chester. I physically _can't_. I'll kill myself, too. Before your cannon fires. Then what will happen?"

"So we both stab ourselves. Then we can both get out."

"It doesn't work that way, Chester," Willow sighed. "One of us will die first. Then they'll save the other. There's no way, Chester. One of us is going to die."

"So let me kill myself."

"_No_."

Slowly, Chester held the knife out and dropped it. It took a moment for it to settle on the hard surface of the snow. The instant it stopped moving, the snow started. Not gradually, no. One second the skies were clear, the next a wicked blizzard was dumping on the pair of tributes. Instinctively, Chester reached out for Willow. They held each other close.

"Please, Willow," he whispered in her ear. "This death will be slow and painful. And whoever lives will go through a lot of pain, too. And then they'll have to live without the other. I could just stab myself. It'd be so easy. So, so easy. Then you'd be safe and you could go home to your sisters. Everything would be okay."

"It wouldn't be," she responded simply. "I'd be without you. I'd live with the memory of watching you die."

"You could close your eyes. I won't scream."

She shook her head slightly. She couldn't move it too much, locked in Chester's embrace as she was. "You promised we'd let the Gamemakers do it. Please keep that promise. For me."

"…Okay."

The wind began to howl, whipping snow in their faces. Chester buried his nose in Willow's shoulder, attempting to shield it from the weather. This did little to stop the stinging flakes from piercing his skin. He was shivering more than he had at any other time in the Arena. Willow was, too, and they trembled together as the wind attempted to knock them over.

"I'm cold," Willow complained quietly.

"Me, too."

"I can't feel my fingers."

"I can't feel my toes."

A soft giggle escaped her lips. Chester smiled. He didn't want dying to hurt. At least not hurt her. He didn't want her to die at all. He wished there was a way, any way to ensure that she'd win. The snow was piling up quickly. Already their ankles were covered.

"Can we sit?"

He nodded. They sat down awkwardly, trying not to let go of each other. Willow leaned into him and he wrapped both arms around her. The wind howled so loudly Chester worried he might go deaf. It wouldn't matter when he was dead, of course, but he was concerned for Willow.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Mm," was her quiet reply.

"What's your favorite food?"

"What?"

Shrugging, he said, "I never really learned some basic stuff about you. So, what's your favorite food?"

"I had some really good breaded chicken fillets in the Capitol," she answered. "With ketchup, mm. Yours?"

"Chocolate layer cake with raspberries. What's your favorite color?"

"Lavender."

"Green."

"What's your favorite animal?"

"I like dogs. The friendly golden kind. The baker in my District has one. Her name is Starlight. Yours?"

"Birds. Because they can fly away."

They fell silent. Chester was shivering so much it almost felt like he wasn't shivering at all, just vibrating. Like one of the massage chairs he had seen in the Capitol. The snow piled up around him and Willow. His legs felt numb, buried in the white snow as they were. It was rather boring, as finales went. Willow's head was snugged into his chest. With some effort, he moved his arm to lift her head to face him. She gave him a feeble smile. He kissed her. He kissed her like he'd never kiss her again, because he knew he wouldn't. He could practically hear the heartbreak in the Capitol. Maybe he could convince them to let them both live. He kissed her hopelessly, desperately.

After a while, she pulled away. She gave him a miserable look. They weren't getting out of it. One of them was going to die.

"I'm tired," she murmured.

"Don't sleep," Chester said quickly.

"It'd be easier to just fall asleep…never wake up…I don't mind this…I can't feel the cold if I'm asleep."

"Willow, please."

"Mppph."

"Don't do this to me, Willow."

"It'd be nice to just fall asleep…I could deal with that…death isn't so bad…"

"You're not dying, damn it. Stay awake. Please."

"You're not sleepy?"

"Not enough to sleep."

"Ah."

"What's your favorite smell?"

"Cinnamon."

"Freshly baked cookies."

"Mmm," Willow said with a soft laugh.

Chester didn't know what else to fill the silence with. He listened hard for Willow's breathing. She couldn't die. She couldn't. He was supposed to die. Why wasn't he dying? Why wasn't he dead? The knife was out of reach. She'd notice if he picked it up. Stupid, stupid. He should have just killed himself. She was going to die. She couldn't die.

His brain felt a little fuzzy. He couldn't see anything through the blizzard that enveloped them. He wondered if the cameras could get a good shot or if the Games would simply end in a blur. That'd be a bad ending. They probably had a way for the cameras to see. Hear, at least. No one would be happy having to listen to the howling wind. Chester wished that it would stop.

"Are you okay?"

There was no response. The fog in his brain was getting heavier, but he fought it. "Willow? Willow, are you okay?" He pulled away from her slightly. Her eyes were closed. He tugged off one of his gloves, wincing as the snow attacked his hand. He wiped the snow off of her neck and attempted to find her pulse, but his hand was already so numb. He thought he could feel something. A cannon hadn't fired. Right? The wind was so loud. Maybe he hadn't heard it. But no, he wouldn't be in the Arena if there had been a cannon. He'd be in a hovercraft, flying back to the Capitol.

Alone.

No, he couldn't be alone. She wasn't dead yet. He could kill himself. She was unconscious. She wouldn't know. Then she'd go back and she'd take care of her family and yes, she wouldn't have him, but it would be okay because she had so much more to live for.

Without putting his glove back on he began to grope around for the knife. The snow had piled up so much. His head was full of clouds. He couldn't find the knife, and he quickly became frustrated. Sleep didn't seem so bad. Willow was right. He could feel himself drifting, drifting…

Through the haze in his head he was vaguely aware of a cannon firing, but the meaning didn't register. He was so tired. It was so cold. A bright light flashed above him. He slipped quietly, calmly into a white oblivion.


	36. Epilogue

Chester could remember crying.

He could remember sobbing violently, relentlessly until they drugged him with something and he passed out. He cried when he woke up. They drugged him again. It went on like this for a while—he didn't know how long. Eventually he was freed to meet with his stylists. They scolded him for crying so much, which only made him cry more. He wanted to feel bad for being hard on Dragonfly and Yellow but he couldn't find space for any emotion other than sorrow. Besides, it wouldn't matter even if they did manage to fix his puffy eyes. He knew he'd just burst into tears again during the interview.

Watching her on screen was heartbreaking. Much of the three hour program was devoted to him, the Victor, and by extension she was on screen a lot, too. Before long Chester was bawling unattractively. Livia passed him a handkerchief and he thanked her quietly, blowing his nose and wiping at his eyes. Makeup streaked the white fabric and he sighed. His stylists would throw a fit.

"How does it feel being the Victor of the 238th Hunger Games?" Livia asked, her tone gentle. Her hair was still a periwinkle color, though she now wore a poofy white strapless dress that fell to her knees. She wore high heels the same color as her hair. She looked so innocent, so trustworthy, but Chester could feel nothing but hate for her.

"I didn't really win."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you saw the recap. I didn't _do_ anything. Sure, I killed Ash and Tessa, but completely on accident. I won on sheer dumb luck. And then it came down to me and her and I only won because I was too stupid to kill myself. And it's bullshit, you know, that it had to end like this. I loved her. I love her. Except she's dead because the _Capitol_," he spat the word, "is full of sick-minded idiots. Why couldn't we both win? Why couldn't we all be alive? Why even have the Hunger Games? You think it's funny? You _murder_ twenty-three _children_ every year. How is that right? We didn't do anything. I didn't rebel against the Capitol. I don't understand why I have to pay for the actions of my ancestors. Why she had to pay."

The audience wasn't very fond of that speech. Chester didn't blame them, not really. It wasn't their fault. They were raised to think the Games were okay. They were stupid and brainwashed. They couldn't help it.

His parents understood. They kept their distance. When he arrived home they hugged him and kissed him for the cameras, but inside their home in Victor's Village they didn't try to talk to him. He appreciated it. He mostly laid on the floor and stared at the ceiling. He slept often, but not for long periods of time. He'd dream of her and wake up with fresh tears in his eyes.

It was nice to see everyone with enough food to eat. At least there was one good thing that had come out of the Arena. But every smiling child he saw made him worry about her sisters. Were they still alive? Did their father pull through? Were they taking care of each other? He wanted desperately to scoop them up and bring them to live with him, but he knew the Capitol would never allow it. They'd kill him.

But, then again, he was better off dead.

There was no reason for him to live, none that he could think of. He didn't want to mentor tributes. He didn't want to do photoshoots. He didn't want to go on the Victory Tour. He missed his old life. Back when he didn't have any cares. His family had been fairly well off before he became a Victor. But no, he didn't want a life where he had never met her. At least he had had a short time with her. Wasn't that enough?

No, no it wasn't. It would never be enough. He missed her. God, he missed her. It wasn't fair. None of it was fair. He had fallen for and lost his first love.

His last love, he vowed.

**AN: I want to thank everyone for reading! :3 (I know you're out there, even if you don't review xD)**


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